Red Alert: The Dawn of Man - Redux
by Tallman7
Summary: The rewrite of Red Alert: The Dawn of Man. What's new? What's old? The only way to know is to read and find out. C&C: Red Alert and Mass Effect crossover.
1. Prologue Part 1: To the Heavens

_**Author Notes: FUCK DISCLAIMERS!**_

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Prologue Part 1: To the Heavens

The Commander sat at his desk, reading reports on the latest developments in Russia. He... longed for something. Exactly what was difficult to describe. It wasn't a longing for battle, or for bloodshed. He'd seen enough of those to last ten life-times. Nor was it a longing for victory. With the capture of Yuri and the recent merging of the timelines, conflict was ceasing over most of the planet. Despite heavy resistance in isolated pockets in a dozen different countries, the Great World War Three was coming to an end, and the Psychic Dominator Disaster had been averted, if only narrowly. What he was longing for was closure: the idea that everything he'd worked for during the past twenty years would amount to something. The world had been locked in cycle of relentless war and fragile peace for his entire life, and he _longed_ for the ability to believe that cycle was about to be broken.

Reading the report in front of him made that longing all the harder to bear, since it seemed to indicate the next war beginning before this one was even finished.

Allied Intelligence reported that there'd been an attempted _coup d'état _in the upper echelons of the Soviet High Command. While the details were sketchy at best, the information available indicated that one of the Unions' highest ranking generals, Nikolai Krukov, and one of his subordinates, Anatoly Cherdenko, had attempted to seize power using a highly experimental piece of technology. Exactly what the technology was, and how it would facilitate the coup were unknown, but the fact remained that even as the current Soviet leadership fell, others were making grabs at the reins of power, and this _particular_ attempt was a disturbing echo of what'd happened with Premier Romanov and his "advisor" Yuri not so long ago. At least, it didn't _feel_ too long ago, from the Commander's perspective. Thinking about the way the two timelines interacted, and how the "past" related to the "future" gave him a headache, so he put it out of his mind.

If there was one bit of good news, it was that the coup had been stopped shortly before it could be executed, but it made him wonder if another attempt was just waiting to happen.

Deciding he needed a reprieve from the events of the present, the Commander turned his attention to a different report, this one decidedly more focused on the future. It detailed the advancements made by Dr. Einstein and his team on the chronosphere technology used by the Allied Armed Forces. After receiving scattered reports that Yuri had potentially developed a _moon base_ of all things, it was decided that the potential of the madman using an off-world location for a final stand was too great a threat _not_ to act on. Consequently, the Commander had requested that the good doctor focus his efforts to increasing the range and efficacy of his chronospheres, so that if there _was_ a base on Luna, it could be dealt with swiftly, before Yuri had a chance to rebuild his strength.

While fears of a hostile base on the moon had ultimately been unfounded, the technological advancements made by Einstein's team in the meantime were nothing short of remarkable. Not only could the Allies now send men and material to orbit and beyond with almost laughable ease, they could even send fully developed, if small, bases as far as Mars.

With the war winding down and fighting mostly ended, the massive military complex built by the Allies over the past four years to stop Yuri and the Russians suddenly had nothing to do but sit around twiddle its' metaphorical thumbs. With that in mind, the Commander had made the decision to focus the attention of the more… _restless_ elements of his command outward, giving them something to do until he was sure they wouldn't suddenly be needed again as they were when Yuri revealed his Psychic Dominators. He'd been caught with his pants down once, and he wasn't eager to re-live the experience. They'd been secretly exploring and mapping every square inch of Luna and Mars in a search for resources not easily available on Earth. The first, and perhaps most important, at least so far, was logical, if somewhat surprising; helium-3, widely believed by his best and brightest to be the future of power generation on Earth, was _far_ more abundant in lunar regolith than anywhere else on Earth, having been deposited there over the eons by solar winds. If nothing else, the idea that Allied power generation could be increased to match the Soviets without having to resort to those massive fission reactors they favored was appealing. And, the Commander admitted to himself with some trepidation, the civilian possibilities might be even greater. Having a way to navigate around the solar system without needing to spend billions on rockets and space elevators would make the potential for human growth almost limitless.

"Assuming of course we don't blow ourselves up first." he muttered with a grim chuckle. "That's _always_ a possibility."

As he began reading through the report, something caught his eye. The area of Mars the expedition teams had managed to map, nearly ten million square miles, was remarkable, given the amount of time they had to do it. However, only four days ago, the expedition teams had suddenly stopped, as if they'd hit a giant invisible wall and were struggling to find a way past it. The Commander wondered if they'd been experiencing technical difficulties, or if there was some sort of supply shortage. With how focused he'd been on the coup in Russia, he hadn't been keeping up on the reports from off-world lately.

"Still, if were any _serious_ problems, the Doc would've called, right?"

The man had all but _leapt_ at the chance to put his considerable talents towards something that didn't involve bodily harm to his fellow man, and the Commander couldn't say be blamed him. As a soldier, he'd become desensitized to the realities of war in a way most civilians would never understand, but at heart, the doctor was a man of peace. As he had once told him _"Vell, Commander, you know, of course, zat var, it is not my vocation! I am only a scientist."_

As he read further, the Commander saw evidence of the doctors' rather… _scatterbrained_ method of research. While he'd made some of the most important discoveries in human history, one's that would win him more than one Nobel Prize if they were declassified, the white-haired physicist fit the cliché of the absent-minded professor almost to a "T." His reports practically _oozed_ with enthusiasm at what he called _"A groundbreaking discovery that will shape mankind's history for generations to_ _come_," without actually giving any _details_ as to what it was he'd actually found. But, if he thought it was significant, and it explained what caused the exploration of Mars to come to a screeching halt, then it must be worth looking in to.

Picking up one of the many phones scattered about his oversized desk, the Commander dialed the direct line to the Off-world Expeditionary Force main base in Houston. A few moments later, he was met with the voice of General Bradshaw, the leader of the Force. After having commanded army groups in three different theaters for twelve years, George Bradshaw was in need of some well-deserved R&R when the Commander had put him in charge of the OEF, expecting it to be a relative cakewalk compared to being shot at by Ruskies every day.

"Nice to hear from you, Commander. How are things in Russia?" he asked.

"Better every day, but I'm still wondering if we can hold everything together this time, or if it'll fall to pieces like it did with Yuri." The Commander sighed. "The most recent reports from Intel aren't good. But that's not what I'm calling about. I was reading the latest report from Doc Einstein about the progress of the Mars mission, and I was wondering if you could shed some light on what it is he's discovered. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was being deliberately obtuse."

Bradshaw chuckled at that. "Well sir, I was actually beginning to wonder that myself. Today's report came in less than thirty minutes ago, and all it said was "Come to Mars, Commander. -_E__instein_." That's it. Five words."

"Are you sure you got the whole thing?" he asked incredulously, scratching his head. "That's not a whole hell of a lot to go on."

"Well, we sent out a request for confirmation a few minutes ago, but considering Mars is two hundred million miles away at the moment, it'll be at least another half an hour before we get any sort of reply. In the meantime, the techs are pretty sure that the message wasn't interrupted or garbled, so it's got a lot of people down here scratching their heads." The commander suppressed a chuckle as Bradshaw paused for a moment. "Honestly… my gut tells me there's something we're not seeing here, sir, a big picture we can't make out yet. Coupled with Einstein's last report, I'm actually inclined to go to Mars myself and see what all the fuss is about. Unless the Reds have suddenly discovered our upgraded chrono technology, there isn't much that could go tits up that far away from Earth; not that would lead to that _particular_ message, anyway. There's no indication the base has been attacked or damaged, only that they've become very mysterious very quickly."

"Hmm…" The Commander thought for a moment. Whatever it was that had caused the doctor to become so close-mouthed must either be very important… or very dangerous, and as the Supreme Allied Commander, both of those things fell squarely in his lap. If there was a problem, the best response would be to send in a unit of chrono commandos and have them figure out what the hell was going on. If they didn't report back, he could send heavier reinforcements, but that would mean having to wait for hours between trips, and if whatever was going on was this important, he might not have that kind of time. Going himself would avoid that problem, and it would be nice to get away from everything for a few days. He'd been to Luna and Mars a few times in the past months, but it'd been a while, and he could use a break. Then again, for all he knew, he could be walking into a combat zone, which wasn't a risk a man in his position was supposed to take.

Still, there were _some_ advantages to rank.

"Alright George. I'll bite. Put together a platoon of c-commandos and legionnaires, and meet me at the transit hub on here at HQ. We're gonna listen to the Doc on this one. He's never steered us wrong before, so I think we owe his some leeway. We'll go in two separate waves, with you and me in the second. If whatever's up there can take on a whole platoon of those boys, we got bigger problems than a compromised research station."

"Yes sir. I'll have the men ready in ten minutes. See you soon."

* * *

The trip to Luna Base should be fairly mundane for the Commander, a fact that still struck him as a bit odd. Less than a year ago, chrono technology had been one of the most expensive and complex tools in the Allied arsenal, requiring more than double the resources to train and outfit a single chrono legionnaire than to construct a tank. Chronospheres were massively expensive and ate power like crazy, and they could only transport a few vehicles or people at a time. On top of that, there was the effect the process had on unshielded living tissue. Just to transport infantry, specialized suits or sealed vehicles were required. Heck, the whole reason their campaigns had been so slow was the need to fit an entire base into a single mobile vehicle, and MCVs were damn expensive because of it. Now though, chrono technology was almost commonplace. It still wasn't ready for the civilian market, but most of his command had access to miniaturized chronospheres that could be used to move enough men and material to build several armies across entire continents for not much more than the cost of transporting them by plane. If fusion technology could be exploited the way his science teams seemed to hope, that cost would drop by ninety percent, making chronospheres cheaper than cars.

Of course, that would mean a complete overhaul of military tactical and strategic doctrine for the entire planet. It was pretty hard to defend anything when the enemy could chrono a tactical nuke onto your lap.

Trying and failing to put the present out of his mind, the Commander gave orders to his clerk to forward his messages to Luna Base for the time being. He stopped by his quarters and quickly changed into his dress blues.

"If something important is gonna go down, I may as well look sharp when it does." he mused.

As he began turned leave, the Commander stopped, and did something rather out of character for a man in his position. He took his gun-belt, to some reminiscent of those worn by old west gunslingers, and strapped it around his waist. He reached into his footlocker and pulled out his personal sidearm, a Colt Single Action Army revolver with hand carved ivory grips. Placing it in his holster, he walked out of his quarters and began making his way to the embarkation room, which served as the central hub for chrono transit for his entire command on this continent. Any chrono travel to or from North America was supposed to pass through that room, with the exception of OEF forces out of Houston, and units that had no choice due to an emergency. As he walked, he received a few rather confused and inquisitive looks from the personnel he passed. It'd been a _long_ time since he had carried a weapon at all, let alone in his own HQ, despite regular visits to the range. Finally, one of the MP's at the door to the embarkation room, Samuels if he remembered right, put voice to the question everyone else had been thinking.

"Chasing after Pancho Villa, sir?" he quipped.

Smiling and shaking his head, he walked by the guard without saying anything. Compared to the weapons his men were armed with, the .45 caliber revolver was downright antique, the design being over a century old. Still, he'd carried it into battle more times than he could _count_ in his younger days, and he just couldn't bring himself to replace it. Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of things. If he ever needed to use it, things were already too far gone for his choice of weapon to make a damn bit of difference.

"Alright gentlemen, here's the quick version" he said, addressing everyone in the small, box-like control room who'd turned to face him as he entered. "Doctor Einstein has personally requested that I meet him on Mars. We're not sure exactly what he has for us, but we think it's big. Communications with Mars have been rather sparse lately, so we're not entirely sure what we're walking into up there. General Bradshaw and I will be following a platoon of commandos and legionnaires up there to see what's going on. While we don't expect any problems, we've been surprised in the past, so if for some reason we don't report in within the next twenty four hours, sending in the cavalry. Someone get on the horn to Colonel Douglass at Bradley and have him scramble a company of troops and two dozen battle fortresses, and have them ready to move out in six hours. I want them prepped and ready just in case. In the meantime, I need transport to Luna for myself and General Bradshaw's team, who should be arriving shortly."

There was a flurry of activity and orders being executed in the control room as the Commander made his way down the ramp that lead to the embarkation area proper. As he did, he heard alarms blare overhead as incoming travelers, presumably Bradshaw and his boys, suddenly popped into existence on a large, elevated platform on the other side of the room. To be fair though, calling the embarkation area a _room_ was like calling a Kirov a _balloon_. The massive, hangar-like facility he was in was a rough circle nearly a mile across, and had ceilings 200 feet high in some places. Massive supporting columns fifty feet in diameter were placed at regular intervals throughout the structure, and made it look not unlike a gigantic beehive; with each and every cell in that hive having platforms stacked twenty five feet apart, three, four, even five layers high in some places. The whole gigantic complex was designed to act as a central transit hub for potentially millions of men and thousands of vehicles, as well as cargo, and even complete buildings. It'd taken the Allies over a year, and tens of millions of dollars to build, but it was designed to act as the LAX of the future, and would eventually be turned into a civilian run chronoport, assuming the Allies and the Union could stop shooting at each other.

Making his way to the platform that led to Luna base, he was greeted along the way by the somewhat weary looking visage of General Bradshaw. He looked much the same as when the commander had last seen him, though there were a few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and his hair was a bit grayer. Smiling, he shook hands with the General, who returned the smile.

"Well George, I guess this beats reading reports all day." he said, with hints of anxiety creeping into his tone. "Not exactly what I would call real R&R, but it'll do for the time being."

"Yes sir. To tell you the truth, I've been thinking about taking some leave and going somewhere nice and sunny, but as they say, no rest for the wicked. I'd like to introduce you to Captain Klara Hahnburg." he replied, turning to the lead officer of the troops he'd brought with him. "She's with the KSK, and in commander of our little scouting party."

The officer, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, though it was hard to tell under the suit, snapped to attention and saluted. "Captain Hahnburg, reporting sir."

"Stand easy, Captain. I assume the General briefed you and you men on the mission?"

"He gave us the basics sir, but we didn't have time for much else." she replied, in a somewhat thick Prussian accent.

"To tell you the truth Captain, there isn't much else to tell. We're headed to Luna then on to Mars. We'll know more when we get there."

She hesitated for a moment before responding. "It's hard to believe sir. Half an hour ago, I didn't know we'd even made it past geosynchronous orbit. To discover that there's a full-fledged base on the moon and Mars is rather… jarring."

"That understandable Captain, but if we can end this damn war, the knowledge should become public rather quickly. We can't keep something this big a secret from the Union forever, and when they find out, the whole world will know. As it stands though, we should be on our way." He suited his words by turning to the massive elevator that lead to the outbound platform to Luna base, and they fell in quickly behind him. As they made the short journey upwards to the platform, Bradshaw turned to him, a bit of a smile on his face.

"What do you think we'll find up there?" he asked.

"If I knew that, I'd still be in my office reading reports." said the Commander, exiting the elevator. As he made his way into the transport vehicle on the platform with his bodyguards, he turned to the General, and struggled to be heard over the klaxons whining in the background as a chronosphere charged. "Tell you what though: if it surprises me any more than Yuri did with his Psychic Dominators, the first round's on me."


	2. Prologue Part 2: The Eagle and The Bear

Prologue Part 2: The Eagle and The Bear

"I like single malt Scotch, Commander. The good stuff mind: twelve years old, at least."

"If what I'm seeing here is accurate, George, I'll get you a _case_. Assuming there even _is_ a Scotland left when we get back to Earth. "

Bradshaw laughed dryly. "A bit _melodramatic_, don't you think sir? If the Reds had wanted to alter history, they already would've, and we wouldn't know about it to begin with."

"That's the problem George." he retorted, a bit of anger creeping into his voice. "They _could_ have changed god knows what already, and we'd have no way of knowing. For all we know, they've changed a dozen different things, and this is just another attempt to start the whole damn cycle over again!" He threw the data-pad into the wall as he stalked angrily over to the observation window and stared at the Earth. He regretted the action immediately: he was the Supreme Allied Commander, not a ten year old child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Maybe you're right, maybe I'm overreacting, but we've seen firsthand what the results of time travel can be. Sure, we used it to stop Yuri from taking over the world, but if what Einstein told us is true, he tried to prevent a devastating war, only to cause an even _more_ devastating one. Not only that, but it allowed Yuri to attempt that psychotic plot of his, and we both know that the human race has _never_, not once in nearly a quarter of a million years, been as threatened as it was when he activated his Dominators. He might never have been able to even _attempt_ that if events had just played out naturally. The fact is, _any_ change to the timeline has the potential to be unbelievably disastrous. And now, we find out the Russians have their own working time machine!"

He reached up and rubbed his temples, hoping to quell the headache he could already feel coming on. He wasn't sure what he found harder to believe: that the Russians _had_ a time machine, or that they _hadn't_ used it. If flew in the face of nearly everything he'd come to expect of the Soviet High Command. If they had an opportunity to reverse the war in one instant, they would've taken it. They did it with Yuri when they disabled every ICBM and MRBM the Allies had in one fell swoop. He couldn't see why they wouldn't do it again, and it baffled him.

"Maybe Soviet High Command isn't running the show anymore." said Bradshaw. He hadn't realized he'd spoken that last though out loud. The general continued. "We've been steadily dismantling their leadership for months now. It's possible one of the other Soviet Commanders had some common sense and managed to stop Krukov before he could act. That would explain why the coup failed to begin with. And in Einstein's defense, he did what he did with the best of intentions. There was _no way_ he could've foreseen someone like Yuri."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," replied the Commander bitterly, "over the bodies of good people who got in the way." He paused. "But I suppose you're right about Yuri. If you'd told me I'd be fighting an egomaniacal madman with psychic powers and genetically enhanced monsters at his beck and call when I joined the force after WWI, I'd have called you crazy."

He walked back over to the desk and sighed heavily. "Alright, let's sit down and go over this one more time." he said, sitting in a padded chair as he motioned for the General to do the same. "The Russians are on Mars. How they managed to figure out we had a base there, we may never know, and I'm not sure it even matters. The fact is, they managed to develop a working time machine, which _apparently_ can also function as a chronosphere. That would normally be disturbing all by itself, considering chrono technology is one of the only _true_ edges we have over them at the moment. But, rather than use the time machine to alter the past and try to win the war, they used it to _stop_ someone planning exactly that, and turned it over to us, on a top secret base they shouldn't even know _exist_s no less." The Commander chuckled ruefully. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I was drunk just for saying those words out loud."

"Well Commander, we can get to that part later." said Bradshaw with a chuckle of his own. He couldn't help but grin a little at that. Bradshaw might be his subordinate, but it was nice to have someone he could blow off steam with during what little off time he had. "First though, I think we have to give the Russians some credit. They had the foresight to stop Krukov from using that damn thing, even knowing it was the only _possible_ way they could win the war. To be honest sir, I don't know that I could've done the same. The US hasn't been on the losing end of a war since eighteen twelve, and if our positions were reversed, I might've said the hell with it and changed the time line, consequences be damned. Now, with that in mind, there's only one Soviet Commander that I know of that has the strength of character and the wisdom to do just that."

"The Bear." said the Commander, almost completely monotone.

"That's the one." Bradshaw said with a curt nod. "Now, I know we have next to no intel on the man. Hell, we knew more about Yuri when he showed himself, and even that was damn little at the time. The fact is though, he's the only one the Russians have that _ever_ managed to take you in a fair fight. Sure, Vladimir might've given you hell time and again, but only because he had a wall of armor to throw at you. Even then, you managed to hold the Air Force Academy in Colorado with relative ease."

"I'd hardly called that particular assignment easy, George. Though compared to those that came after, it was almost pleasant." he said, images of Chicago coming to mind immediately. "That said, The Bear always struck me a little different than the rest of the Reds. Maybe it was the way he fought, maybe it was his skill. I don't know. As strange as it sounds, he almost seems like a general of old, like Hannibal, or Caesar, or Scipio: respectable and honorable, even in this day and age. Maybe I'm just an old foggy, but I have to admit I admire that in the man. There was a time in war where a general would surrender in person, turning over his sword to a man he acknowledged as his better. And his opponent would return it. Then, they'd sit down and have _dinner_ and _talk_ like civilized human beings. I'd thought that era was long dead." Something crept into his voice at the end there. Something sorrowful. Bradshaw caught it.

"You took Ben's death a lot harder than most of us." he said. "You know him better than anyone else except his wife, and you had to watch it happen. Maybe there's one good thing that came out of this time travel, time line, causality crap."

"Yeah, I suppose there is." he said with a slight smile. "Back to the matter at hand though: what do we do about the Russians on Mars? We can't let them stay there any longer than necessary, not without figuring out why they're there in the first place. And I'm damn hesitant to go charging in with guns blazing. Not only do they have Einstein and his entire team hostage, they still have that damn time machine. If we send those boys in hot, a bloodbath could be the _best_ case scenario."

"Do they really have them hostage, though?" Bradshaw asked with a knowing look in his eye.

"What do you mean, _do they have him hostage_? They're there, aren't they?"

"True, but the fact of the matter is that they've been there for a while. As I see it, there are only two real possibilities. One: the Russians took the base by force, and Einstein barely managed to get the first transmission out trying to warn us. If that were true, then why the second transmission? The Reds had us cold, and they could've had the entire _base_ locked down and bursting at the seams with conscripts. Sure, we could storm it _eventually_, but it'd be damn costly. They could just grab the research, take Einstein, and skedaddle, and we wouldn't know a damn thing until we got there. By then, it'd be too late. Instead, they sent us a second message with details of their presence, and told us flat out they have a time machine. Unless they had a sudden attack of crazy, that doesn't make any damn sense."

"OK, fair enough." admitted the Commander. "But what else would explain all this nonsense? Why the cryptic messages? Why didn't Moscow just call us in the first place? I have a red phone on my desk that goes straight to the Kremlin. It's buried in papers and covered in dust, but it's there. Why would the Soviet High Command go to all that trouble to put a team on Mars, and then just casually tell us about it in such an obtuse and indirect fashion?"

"Like I said, maybe they aren't running things any more. My second theory is this: The Bear is _on his own_." said the general, emphasizing the last three words. "He stopped Krukov from using the time machine, but knew if he turned it over to the Soviet High Command, they'd use it anyway, and possibly damn us all. So, he went to the one place he _knew_ they couldn't reach him instead. He was willing to sacrifice his only chance to turn the war around, so maybe… maybe he's accepted the loss and is willing to hand his sword over to the better man."

That gave the Commander pause. He hadn't considered the possibility that The Bear would defect. Then again, this wouldn't be a defection so much as it would be a surrender. Bradshaw pressed on. "That might explain the cryptic messages. If The Bear was afraid of being discovered, he might've asked Einstein to limit his reports as much as possible on the off chance they were intercepted. You know as well as I do that the Reds don't take kindly to traitors."

The Commander nodded. "True, but I wouldn't call this treason. This is more akin to a surrender."

"Sir, you wouldn't call what George Washington did treason either, but then again, history's written by the victors. If his actions bring an end to the fighting, not just temporarily, but once and for all, he'll be considered a Hero of the People in Russia. It'll make his superiors look like a bunch of proud idiots who would rather sacrifice the lives of millions more than they already have in a hopeless attempt to turn things around. But there's no guarantee of that. If he was discovered, they'd string him up by his thumbs, war hero or not. This may've been his only option. He could just be there to turn over the time machine and discuss terms. He may even figure that by approaching us outside the normal chain of command, and with the time machine as a good will present, we'll put him in charge of what's left of the Union when this is over. After all, we _have_ been doing our damndest to dismantle what leadership they have left."

The Commander considered that for a long while. It made the most sense of anything _else_ he could think of, and it did explain all of the craziness that'd been going on. Still, it was almost too good to be true, and that always made his hackles rise. Once again though, his friend had talked the Commander into doing something he knew he shouldn't, strictly speaking. But, if he had a chance to end this, once and for all, he was going to _take_ it, consequences be damned.

* * *

"Alright ladies, let's get this show on the road!" Bradshaw intoned, his voice strong even through his protective suit. "We know the Commies have boots on Mars, but our best guess is that they're friendly." There were some surprised and disbelieving mutters from the assembled commandos, but Bradshaw cut them off with a wave. "Yes, you hear right. I said friendly. All of us are going up there in one wave, and we're gonna see if they came to talk or to shoot. Now… I don't want anyone doing something stupid here. We have a lot of people on that station, and most of them are scientists, Doctor Einstein included. With the Commander and me riding shotgun on this one, we can't afford for this to turn into the O.K. Corral. You are _not_ to fire _unless fired upon_." He emphasized the last three words. "I don't care if the entirety of the _Red Army_ is there; you are to treat anyone you see as a noncombatant until they do something to show they're _not_. Is that understood!?"

The commandos and legionnaires assembled on the embarkation platform all responded with a salute as they shouted "YES SIR."

"Good. Be on your toes people, we're going into this one blind. Chrono control, transport when ready." he said, looking at the dozen or so techs in the control room.

"Yes sir, transport in five. Four. Three. Two. One."

And suddenly they were there. Chrono travel wasn't like the movies, where teleportation involved beams of light, or flashes, or a person slowly fading into and out of existence. It was sudden, like the snap of the fingers, and it could be jarring for someone who'd never done it before. Fortunately, every man and woman in the squad had been through the process hundreds, perhaps even thousands of times. The only exceptions were the Commander himself, and General Bradshaw.

'_Strange the way that works. I live two hundred yards from the largest chrono travel hub in existence, and I've only ever gone through a few dozen times. Maybe I need to get out more.'_

The first thing the Commander noticed as smoke from the transport cleared was the five conscripts. He'd been expecting them, of course, although not quite so few. Then again, a fairly primitive chronosphere knockoff like what the Russians had probably couldn't hold more than a dozen people, so maybe anticipating an army of them was expecting a bit much. What he wasn't expecting was for them to be playing cards and drinking vodka with one of the SAS snipers and the two SEALs assigned to the base.

He also hadn't been expecting the other five people he could see, nor the situations they were in. Doctor Einstein was bent over a set of what looked to be technical drawings on a small table, and was making notations on them while speaking to another scientist the Commander didn't recognize. Based on the red hammer and sickle patch on the arm of his lab coat, he was probably a Russian, which was an odd choice for a strike team.

Near the disembarkation platform, three women were sitting around a table, discussing something while drinking from coffee mugs and laughing. One of them was Major Eva Lee, the CO of the Mars base, and a good friend of his. She'd been his adjutant for most of the war, and with her skill and dedication, had ridden his coattails through the ranks. Seated to her left was a Russian Lieutenant, who looked vaguely familiar, which seemed odd considering he hadn't personally met a Russian in nearly a year, and she had a face and figure not easily forgotten. The person at the table was a rather petite, almost fragile, looking woman who had her back turned to him. She was in a Russian officer's uniform, but he couldn't see any rank insignia beneath her short hair, so he wondered who she could be.

The Commander took all that in a little over a second before letting out an almost hysterically shout. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?"

The sudden appearance of nearly fifty chrono legionnaires and commandos not twenty feet away, coupled with the sudden outburst from the Commander, had an effect that could almost be described as comical, if it wasn't occurring in a top secret base on Mars. One of the conscripts who'd been drinking from a bottle and leaning back in his chair lost his balance and fell backwards to the floor with a yelp. The Russian Lieutenant spilled her coffee on her uniform and suddenly exclaimed something in Russian with a mixture of anger and embarrassment in her voice. The Allied soldiers in the room, Eva included, suddenly snapped to attention and saluted the Commander, sporting sheepish and ashamed looks on their faces, and in the case of the sniper, poker cards in his hand. Most of the Russians, the scientist included, looked downright dumbfounded at the instantaneous appearance of four dozen of the deadliest men on earth, and only stared stupidly. The only people to maintain any semblance of dignity were Doctor Einstein and the Russian officer. The Doctor didn't look up immediately, and finished what he was writing. Conversely, the Russian immediately rose to her feet smoothly and faced the Commander after setting down her coffee.

"Ah, Commander, it is good to see you again." said Doctor Einstein as he turned to face the now thoroughly baffled and increasingly furious Commander. "I vas vondering ven-"

"Commandos, secure the exits and everyone in this room, including Major Lee and the Doctor! If anyone here moves for a weapon, shoot them!" snapped the Commander, cutting the scientist off. He was now _completely_ out of patience with the situation at hand, and it showed. "Until I get to the bottom of this, no one does anything without my authorization, and that includes _talking_! Now, Major Lee!" he yelled menacingly, whirling to face the startled woman. "What in the HELL is going on here!?"

She opened her mouth to answer but stopped suddenly as the chrono commandos used their suits' built in transporters to appear behind or beside every single person in the room, P-90's pointed at their heads. She gave a nervous glance at the two commandos that had suddenly teleported next to her, and then pressed on with her explanation, a bit of nervousness and fear in her voice. "Sir, the Russians are friendly. They came here to turn over a time machine developed by Dr. Zelinsky." She threw a glance at the Russian scientist as she continued. "Sir, we would've contacted you with more information, but the Commander here didn't want her superiors to know what she'd done. She was afraid that if we told you too much, they'd intercept the message and she'd be branded a traitor." Her explanation spilled out of her mouth in a continuous stream of words, slowly getting faster as she progressed. Despite the fact that it was very nearly _exactly_ what the Commander and Bradshaw had theorized before leaving, it did little to quell his anger.

"And since when you, any of you" he snarled, sweeping his hand across the room, "take orders from a commie? This is an unbelievably serious breach of protocol, Eva! From what you've just said alone, every single person in this room, including you and the Doctor, could be _shot_, either for espionage, or for _treason_!"

"Sir, I- I- I- …" Eva stuttered, her eyes going wide at the idea of what the consequences of her actions could be. Surprisingly though, it was the Russian officer who answered. Saluting primly, she replied.

"Commander, please, if anyone here should be punished, it is I. These men came here under my authority, and it was I who asked the Major and the Doctor to restrict their reports. Do not punish them for my mistake."

"And who exactly are you?" he asked, anger thick in his voice.

She started a bit at the question, but then a small grin crossed her lips. "Isn't it obvious, _Eagle_? I'm The Bear."

That caused when could best be described as a cognitive train wreck in the Commanders' thoughts. Staring blankly at her for a moment, he asked in a flat voice "You… are The Bear?"

"Da. Do you have a problem with that?"

"I… Ah hell." he remarked as he walked over to the table where the poker game had been going. He picked up a half full bottle of vodka and took a large swig.

"I'm too sober for this"


	3. Prologue Part 3: An Unnatural Union

Prologue Part 3: An Unnatural Union

"OK, you've convinced me not to shoot everyone, though the booze may've helped some too." said the Commander with a small grin. "Now, I want you to start from the beginning and give me the highlights on what series of events could've brought the Russian Bear to my Mars base." He was somewhat more composed now than he had been before the fifth of vodka.

"I do have a name, you know." said his counterpart with a look of annoyance on her face. She pressed on with a dismissive wave. "But no matter. Approximately one week ago, Doctor Zelinsky" she gestured to the Russian scientist, now seated between her and her adjutant, "contacted my aid, Lieutenant Zofia, about a possible coup that was manifesting in the Soviet command structure. What's left of it, anyway." she said dejectedly.

"I thought I recognized you, Lieutenant." replied the Commander with eyebrows slightly raised. "We have almost as little intel on you as we do your boss." He paused as a small smile appeared on his face. "At least we had a photo. When the rest of my generals discover that I got my ass handed to me at Hawaii by a five foot tall, ninety pound woman, they'll laugh out of their chairs."

The Bear let out a low growl. "Are you implying that a _woman_ can't do as well as a man on the battlefield, _Eagle_?" she spat, anger thick in her voice. She pointed towards him threateningly and continued "Because let me tell you, I worked damn hard to get where I am today. If you think climbing the ranks as a woman is difficult in the Allied Army, then you should see what it's like in the Russian Red Army!"

"No, I just… well I-I-I mean… It's so unexpected, after all the Reds-the Russians-you-I didn't mean that…you're just so _young_, not to mention pretty, and-and-and…" blathered The Eagle, almost incoherently, a rosy flush coming to his face. He trailed off and paused for a moment to regain his composure. "And you just turned the most powerful man in the Allied Armed Forces into a babbling idiot in fifteen seconds. Christ, you really are The Bear, aren't you?"

Bradshaw devolved into a fit of cackling laughter at that, and Major Lee put a hand to her mouth, trying and failing to cover the wide smile and silent giggle. The Russian Lieutenant gave her commander a proud and approving look, and donned a small smirk. The anger in his counterpart's face drained away, and was replaced with a mischievous grin. "That I am. Though I'll admit, you're not quite what I'd anticipated either. I expected you to be more… forceful. Most Russian Generals are like Krukov or Vladimir. Proud, arrogant, stubborn. You seem like a pleasant person, which is more than I can say for most of the Soviet High Command." She let out a derisive snort. "You don't get far in Russia being nice. It's actually quite refreshing."

"Fair enough. And George." he said, facing the just recovering General. "If you breathe one word of this to anyone, I'll reassign you to Canada. Not only will I reassign you to Canada, but I'll reassign you to _Quebec_, with all the Frenchies, eh?"

Bradshaw looked slightly nervous at hearing the semi-threat, but rolled on anyway. "Sure you will, Commander. Sure you will. Back to the matter at hand though, you were saying something about a coup, ma'am?"

"Yes." she said with a nod. "Anatoly Cherdenko, head of our Special Research Division, approached General Krukov with information about a project his department had been working on for some time; a project that _he_ believed could single-handedly reverse the war. Apparently, he planned to use a prototype time machine invented by Doctor Zelinsky to travel back to 1927 Brussels, specifically the Solvay International Physics Conference."

"I vas at zat conference. I remember debating vis Niels Bohr." said Einstein, chipping in for the first time since the Commander had calmed down. "Vhy vould he… _mien gott_."

"Yes, Doctor." replied Zopia, speaking for the first time as well. "He knew you were at the conference, and it was one of the only times in history where you had a known and definite location where he could approach you alone."

"He vas going to erase me, just like I erased Hitler…" He saw the puzzled looks on the faces of the Russians present. "Zis is… somevhat embarrassing. Nearly szirty years ago, I used my prototype chronosphere to travel back to 1924 to... remove… a man named Adolf Hitler. I believed him to be responsible for Germany causing ze Second Vorld Var in my original timeline, a var zat caused fifty million deaths, including six million Jews, who were…" His voice cracked slightly. "_exterminated_… by his Nazi regime in an ethnic cleansing known as ze Holocaust. I had hoped to prevent zat var, but instead… I made szings vorse." He said the last slowly, pain and regret filling his voice.

The Russian scientist, Zelinsky, recovered from the shock of Einstein's revelation first and spoke up. "You mean you _used_ a time machine already!? If you hadn't done that, this war could've been _prevented_, and Yuri would never have come to power. How could you be so reckless?"

"I had only ze best intentions!" protested the scientist. "Zat- zat monster _murdered_ six million of my people, I had… I had to do someszing." he responded dejectedly, deflating as he spoke. He looked tired, ragged. He wasn't getting any younger, and the wars had taken their toll.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Doctor." chastised the now incensed Soviet leader in an uncanny echo of what the Commander himself had said not that long ago.

"Not to mention the possible repercussions of changing something that extreme!" said Zelinsky, practically yelling. "You had no way of knowing what unforeseen consequences would arise because of what you did!"

"Now just a minute here." interjected Bradshaw, his face turning purple with anger. "The Doc is only human, and to err is human. No one feels worse about his actions than he does, and we should-"

"WORSE!? At least I had the sense to stop _my_ time machine from being used, you buffoon! I would have expected the _great Doctor Einstein _to at least-"

"ENOUGH!" shouted the Commander, slamming his fist into the table. Everyone froze at his outburst, their heads snapping to meet his piercing gaze. "Enough. We won't solve _anything_ by insulting each other and arguing. We've come to realize the consequences of time travel, and we've learned that _particular_ lesson in blood and death. The fact is, we can't undo what happened, so we should at least try to learn from our mistake so we don't repeat it. Now… if you wouldn't mind continuing where you left off…?"

"Yes, well…" she started slowly, reigning in her anger. "Cherdenko _was_ planning to erase the Doctor. He knew that it was he that gave the Allies their advanced technology and it was he that was most instrumental in their... your... victory. He thought that by removing him, a Soviet victory would be inevitable." She sighed before continuing. "But as much as that would've meant to my people, even to me personally, the cost was simply too high, the risks too great. Gregor realized that, at the very least, the Union would lack her nuclear arsenal, since Doctor Einstein was so instrumental in the development of atomic weapons. So, he contacted me, believing that I was the only Soviet commander that would have the presence of mind to help him stop Cherdenko."

"Alright, I suppose that makes sense." replied the Commander after a moment. "I guess I can even see how you might figure that coming to me would be your only way of avoiding the chopping block when your superiors discovered what you had done. But how in god's name did you even _know_ about this facility? This and Luna Base are the most heavily guarded secrets in the Allied military." He leaned forward and began boring into her with his eyes. "If there's a leak in my command structure this big, I'm sure as _hell_ not letting you go anywhere, or do _anything_,until I plug it, _Bear_."

"There's no need for threats, _Eagle_." she replied, returning his gaze with interest. "I intended to tell you everything when I decided to… defect." She said the word with a grimace. "I'm already _far_ past the point of no return, so a few state secrets more or less isn't going to bother me. And when are we going to stop using these silly codenames, Commander? We're both people, and we both have names. It made sense when we were trying to kill each other, but that's in the past."

"Just answer the question."

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily "Uhg… fine. We didn't _actually_ know you had a base on the moon, and we weren't even sure about Mars, thought we did suspect. Three weeks ago, one of our spy satellites detected an extremely powerful radio broadcast from Houston that was aimed at Mars. It was heavily encrypted, and we couldn't understand it, but the signal was still there. In fact, the radio beam was so narrow and focused, we wouldn't have detected it if it hadn't passed right through the satellite. In truth, it was like hitting a fly with a bullet from a thousand kilometers away. We… got lucky."

"You have spy satellites?" asked Bradshaw incredulously. "I didn't ven know the Union _had_ an operational space program. Still, I guess we both have our secrets." A second thought seemed to occur to him. "If you didn't know we had a base on Mars, why did you come all the way out here? You could've been stranded on a barren rock a quarter of a billion miles from home. That's a hell of a risk."

She hung her head. "Da, it was. But honestly, I had no choice. Cherdenko had to be stopped, and I knew High Command wouldn't see it that way. Gregor, Zofia and I…" She hesitated, a lost look appearing in her eyes. "Dying of asphyxiation on Mars is far preferable to what they would have done to us if we'd been caught. Trust me." Her voice was weak at the end, and the Commander couldn't help by feel some sympathy for her. He'd heard rumors of what the Reds did to traitors, and it wasn't pretty.

"Alright." he said at last. "You convinced me. If the three of you and those five conscripts really _are_ defecting, there are procedures to go through. I'll have to contact the President, and you'll all need to be thoroughly debriefed. You understand that for security reasons, you can't stay here or on Luna, but we can find somewhere safe for you in the States. In the meantime, we're going to need to dismantle that damn time machine of yours. It's simply too dangerous to leave in one piece, but I'd rather not just blow the thing up. Doctor Zelinsky, you'll be allowed to stay here and assist with the process, and then you'll be moved to Earth. Bradshaw and I'll be heading back to Luna to fill out the mountains of paperwork this is gonna generate. Captain Hahnburg." he said, turning to the Captain, who'd been waiting patiently near the disembarkation platform this whole time. "Round up your men and have them escort the conscripts and these officers back to Luna for transit to Earth. The General and I will be accompanying you as soon as-"

"Vait vait vait Commander, you can't leave yet." interrupted Einstein. "Zer is someszing urgent, someszing you must know about right avay. I believe I mentioned it in my reports before szis…_situation_… developed?"

"Well, what is it Doc? I'm kinda busy at the moment."

"Vell, Commander, ve discovered…" he trailed off, throwing a concerned look at the Russians sitting at the table.

The Commander let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh the hell with security, just spit it out. It's not like anything can surprise me any more than I already am."

"Vell… ve… ve discovered a piece of technology here on Mars during vone of our survey missions. Ze technology Commander… it's alien."

* * *

"I'm also a bit of a wine snob sir. If you could get a bottle or two of a nice Riesling or Chardonnay, I can get the cheese to go with it."

"George, if you weren't my best armor commander, I'd punch you right in the nose." His threat echoed hollowly in the small, private conference room the three senior officers had commandeered for their meeting.

The general chuckled lightly. "Aww, don't be sore Commander. I'll share. It's the least I can do, considering."

"I feel like this is a bad dream George. I mean seriously. _Aliens? On Mars?_ How is that even possible? I have the benefit of being cleared to know every single secret this country has, and there's never been a blip on the radar of anything like this. Ever! Wouldn't we have seen them before now? Wouldn't there be _some_ evidence of what they were doing _somewhere_ on the planet for us to find? I mean, sure, there've been stories about crop circles and abductions and _probing_ and whatever else, but nothing official. How could there not be _some_ trace?"

"Maybe there was. After all, Yuri did have those flying saucers."

"But those were something out a bad science fiction movie. These are real, honest-to-god aliens. Sure they've been gone for fifty thousand years, but they're not some bad horror movie rip-off."

"Don't pout sir, it doesn't suit you." The Commander opened his mouth to protest, but Bradshaw rolled right over him. "Now look: I know it's hard to accept. We've seen a lot of damn strange things in our time, and this tops them all. But still, if Einstein's right about this, and I'm inclined to believe he is, the question we should be asking is 'What are we going to do about it?' "

"Eagle, Bradshaw is right. This affects the entire planet, not just the Allies. You can't cut us out."

"_Us_, Bear? What _us_? There is no _us_. You defected, remember? Technically, you're a civilian now. I'm not sure why you're even a part of this conversation." His nerves were frayed, and the stress was getting to him.

"Because, _sir_, someone is going to need to lead what's left of the Union after you get through dismantling the current leadership. I intend to be that someone." She replied sternly, her voice brokering no argument.

"And what makes you think you're gonna have any say in that. It's not your decision, hell, it's not even _my_ decision. The politicians in Washington have to do _something_ to justify their cushy offices and big paychecks. Even then, what makes you think you're cut out to be a leader? You _lost_, remember?"

The next thing he remembered about the conversation was a ringing in his ears and a burning in his cheek. He couldn't believe it. She _slapped_ him. She'd actually _slapped_ him.

"How dare you, you- you- высокомерный, капиталистическая, женоненавистник свинья!" she screamed, drawing back her arm for another slap, outrage marring her otherwise beautiful face. It never connected as the two commandos he had guarding the small office quickly teleported over and bodily restrained her, but that didn't halt her tirade. "I gave my whole _life_ to my country, everything I had to her service! I never had time for friends or family or _children_ because I had to dedicate everything I _was_ to doing my _duty_! I didn't have the advantage of having the smartest man on Earth dreaming up ways for my forces to kill the enemy, or having commanders I could trust to fight and not to stab me in the back when I wasn't looking, or having men that had more than a week of training before they were give a rifle and a uniform and sent out to die! I _worked _and_ suffered_ for everything I am today, which is likely more than you can say! You probably had a rich family with military connections that could send you to _West Point_ to learn from the best your country had to offer! I earned what I am with _blood_ and _sweat_ and _tears_, and I'll be _damned_ if I let you insult me like that! I'd rather die!"

As the Commander felt her rant and rage wash over him, he went from feeling first shock, then anger, to feeling bone deep regret and shame. She had no idea how right she was. His older brother was good friends with the Superintendent of the USMA, and his father had been the personal aid of John Pershing during the First World War. He _did_ have high connections which had helped him during has career and rise to the top. And even then, she had pushed the most advanced and powerful military on Earth, one he had helped to build and lead, almost to the breaking point with nothing but skill and determination and guts. He felt like such an unbelievable ass.

"I'm sorry." He said it softly, the humiliation and remorse at what he had just said to her clear in his voice. "I… I had no right to say that. You… you're the single greatest military strategist and tactician I've ever met, far better than I ever was. Had our positions been reversed, you would've rolled over my forces with laughable ease. What I said was arrogant and stupid and… and wrong. I'm sorry." He finished quietly, and then slumped in his chair held his head in his hands. "Let her go. If she needs to kick my ass again to teach me some sense and respect, then let her. I deserve it after what I just said."

The commandos hesitated a moment before following his orders, clearly unsure if he actually meant it. As she shook herself loose from their grasp, she straightened her hair and uniform, which had gotten disheveled during the tussle. She slowly sat dawn across from him before responding. "I... forgive you. And I want to apologize for my outburst." She held up a hand to forestall his protest as she continued. "Whether or not you deserved it is irrelevant. It was unprofessional and unbecoming an officer, especially one in my position, no matter how provoked I was. I should know better." A small smile split her face. "Did you really mean what you said about my skill?"

"Every word." he replied with a solemn nod. "My forces were better trained, better equipped, and we had the technological edge. Even then, we needed a damn time machine to stop Yuri and win the war." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. "If you can lead a nation as well as you can lead an army, then you'll make a damn fine Premier."

"President." she replied bluntly. "I doubt your leaders will allow the Union to remain as it is considering what happened with Romanov. Besides, I'm intelligent enough to know that communism and single party rule work far better in theory than they do in reality. It won't be easy, but I think the Soviet people can be convinced of this."

"Heh… seems to me that you're already beginning to show signs of the wisdom you'd need to lead a country through what's ahead. Even so, I meant it when I said I didn't have a say in what happens to you or your country when this is over. Still, I do have some pretty powerful friends in Washington that might be able to help with that. Rescuing someone from a being mind-controlled puppet a half a dozen times tends to endear you to people. I can't make any promises… but we'll see how the pieces fall."

They both sat there silently for a few moments, staring at each other. The situation was just starting to become awkward when Bradshaw, who'd spent the past few minutes in stunned disbelief, cleared his throat softly, bringing their attention back to the world of the living.

"Well. How that we've gotten _that_ out of our systems… the question I asked earlier remains. What are we going to do about this alien technology we found?"

The Commander shook his head, quickly coming out of his stupor. "Well, I suppose we should study the thing – try to find out whatever we can. Who knows what secrets could be locked inside it. Without meaning to sound overly dramatic, this could be meaning-of-life level stuff here."

"Well obviously we study the thing." replied the General with a roll of his eyes. "I meant: do we tell anyone? If information like this became public, it could cause a panic. So soon after Yuri and his Dominators and Grinders and UFO's and everything else, people might not be able to handle the truth. Hell, the Catholic Church _alone_ has been trying to deny the possibility of alien life for centuries. I'm not sure this won't cause more problems than we could handle. Something this big could shake the world to its foundations and rip it to pieces."

The small group thought about that for a moment before the future president of Russia spoke. "Maybe not." she said slowly "It's risky, but it might be for the best to tell the world about this. We've been fighting some of the most destructive wars imaginable for nearly sixty years. Those wars were caused by ideological differences that, in the grand scheme of things, are really very petty. If the Union does reform, those differences will start to disappear. It won't happen overnight, but something like this might actually help the process. If people realize that there's more in the universe than just our one small planet and our insignificant problems, it might serve to unify them. This could be…" She hesitated a moment before looking at the Commander, the fires of determination burning brightly in her eyes. "This could be the dawn of a new age for mankind. Not an age of war or weapons or death, but of art and science and culture. We owe it to the people of the entire planet, and those that have died in these horrendous wars, to try to build that age. It won't be easy, but then again, nothing worth doing ever is."

Bradshaw started nodding during her speech, and when it ended, her turned to his friend. "She's right, sir. This decision could be the single most important moment in human history. We can't let the possibility for something like this pass us by. This is a chance for true, lasting, peace, and I know that's something we've all wanted for a long, long time."

The Commander sighed. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. "I agree. I won't say I like it, but then again, there's not much about this situation I _do_ like. That said, before we make any sort of decision or recommendation to the President, we need to hear what Doc Einstein has to tell us about the aliens. More information can only help, and it might make it a bit easier to tell this to him and the Joint Chiefs. Though I suspect they'll all have a damn heart attack either way." he muttered. "It might be prudent to bring a few bottles of that twelve year old Scotch I owe you with us when we tell them. God knows I needed a drink when this all started."

* * *

As they strode through the facility, the Commander and his two companions passed a number of small labs, most of which were dark and unused. As they did, his thoughts raced. The personnel the labs were meant for were still busy elsewhere on Earth and Luna at moment, though with this revelation, they would become un-busy damn fast. In fact, they would most likely need to build a veritable city to house everyone that would be needed here. And with that many people, transporting everything required to build and maintain a presence of that kind from off-world was nearly a practical impossibility. The only logical logistical solution was to use local materials, but that would mean suits and rovers and mining equipment and a million other things. Eventually, the only possible solution would be to terraform the planet, or at least a part of it under a dome, which would mean… Those were thoughts for another time, years or decades in the future. In the present, the trio entered a lab that was somewhat larger than the rest, though it seemed small with so many people in it. A dozen techs, doctors, and MPs filled the room, and there was a constant, if controlled, buzz of conversation.

The moment the trio entered, Einstein walked over from a chalkboard and approached them. "Commander, I'm glad to see zat you've made up your mind about ze artifact. Ve vere beginning to vonder."

"We'll get to the nitty-gritty of decisions later, Doc. For now, what can you tell me about it?"

Einstein adopted a lecturing tone. "Vell, it appears to be a data storage device of some sort, a memory bank if you vill. Vis ze help of Doctor Zelinsky, ve haff made surprising progress zo far. It appears zat ze device vas created by a race of beings called ze Protheans, a race zat lived nearly fifty szousand years ago and controlled a galaxy spanning empire. Zen, in a few hundred years, vich is essentially a single moment in history, zey ver viped out."

"Wiped out? How? War, famine, disease, what?"

"Zis is unclear. Vhile ve haff yet to decode even a fraction of ze data in ze artifact, zere is noszing in ze device vich we haff been able to locate zus far to answer zat question. But if I ver to guess… I vould say var. A swift, brutal, und catastrophic var. No disease, no matter how virulent, could kill an entire species zat quickly, if at all. Diseases cannot spread szrough empty space after all. A quarantine vould contain a disease like zat too easily. Und famines vill reduce a population, not exterminate it."

Bradshaw paled slightly as Einstein continued. "If that's true, then whoever or _whatever_ wiped them out must've been damn powerful. If they'd survived, even partially, they could've rebuilt their civilization in fifty thousand years and come back to Mars, but they didn't. That means they were likely wiped out completely. And anything that can do _that_ to a galaxy spanning _empire_ must be inconceivably destructive." His eyes widened in horror. "For all we know…"

"They could still be out there." the Commander finished, his tone hard. ""This changes everything. If whatever hit the… Promians? Prometheans? Protheans? Protheans… can do something like _that_, they could wipe out humanity without breaking a sweat. If we start exploring the galaxy, we could be next on their hit list. We might just be safer burying the damn thing and forgetting about it."

"It may be too late for zat, Commander." said Einstein with a shake of his head. "Ven zey came last, ve as a species had barely reached behavioral modernity, let alone reached for ze stars. Zey likely ignored us because of our primitive state. Zat is no longer ze case. No, I believe our best chance at survival is to fight, not to hide."

"But how can we fight something that powerful? We could barely beat the Commies, er, Russians, sorry ma'am." Bradshaw said, looking at her slightly embarrassed. He continued "There's no _way_ we could beat that."

"Not vis our current level of technology, no. But… ze artifact can change zat." The doctor picked up a data pad from a nearby table and handed it to the Commander. As he scrolled through its' contents, his eyebrows climbed into his scalp. "Zere is data on ze artifact about technology zat is decades, even centuries ahead of ours. Everyszing, from veapons, to armor, to medicine, und faster-zan-light travel, und terraforming. Vis zis, ve might stand a chance."

"But the Protheans had that technology, and it didn't help them." protested the Soviet. "Even _if_ we can replicate it, even if the Union and the Allies work together, we would be no better off than they were. We would be worse, considering we don't have a galactic empire to support us."

"Ya, zat is true, madam, but zer is anoszer difference between us und ze Protheans. Zeir technology vas based around a substance zey called Element Zero, vat ve vould call neutronium. Zey had become technologically… _engpass_... erm…" He faltered for a moment before the Commander spoke.

"Bottlenecked?"

"Ya, ya, bottlenecked. Zey could not szink beyond Element Zero, und it cost zem. Ve however haff developed technologies zat szink outside zat particular box. I imagine zat chrono technology _alone_ vould haff drastically altered zeir fate. Besides, vat haff ve to lose by trying, _Fräulein_? If zey vould destroy us, zen let us… vat is American expression? Go down svinging?"

She nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. I'm not about to let a bunch of faceless alien bastards blow up my country and kill my people without a fight. I imagine you feel the same as I do, Commander?"

"Yes I do, ma'am. Yes I do. Doctor, you mentioned that the advanced technology these aliens have is based on something called Element Zero. Can you elaborate on that?"

"Perhaps I can help with that Commander." He looked away from Einstein and saw the Russian scientist, Zelinsky, come towards him.

"Element Zero, as far as we can tell, has unique properties that would seem to defy the laws of physics. For example, by passing an electrical current through refined Element Zero, it becomes possible to alter the mass of objects."

"How does that help us?"

""Well, think about it. Einstein's, er, his" he said, gesturing to the somewhat amused man standing next to him. "General Theory of Relativity relates the mass of an object to its' energy. The theory also implies that as the velocity of an object increases, its' mass increases exponentially with it. As an object gets more massive, it requires more energy to accelerate it further, until eventually it becomes infinitely massive, and so would require infinite energy to speed up. This happens at the speed of light, which in effect acts a universal speed limit for any object with mass. But if an object, say a ship, had its mass reduced to zero…"

"Zen ze limit vould no longer apply. Wunderbar, ya?" Einstein finished, smiling happily.

"That's... astounding." said the Commander, slightly flabbergasted. "Can we confirm this, eh… 'Mass Effect' Zelinsky?"

"Yes. In fact, we already have. Your survey team found several other artifacts during their excavation of the ruins the Protheans left behind. Among them was a sphere of refined, nearly pure, Element Zero. We tested it, and it works."

"So you're saying that we now have the capability of building ships that travel faster than light? Just like that? That's rather… sudden."

"Vell, not quite, Commander." interjected Einstein. "Although ve haff ze blueprints und plans for such ships, zey require materials zat ve don't haff. Some of zem, ve don't even possess a close facsimile for. On top of zat, ve do not haff _nearly_ enough Element Zero to build a ship. Even if ve did, vone ship vill do us little good. Ze biggest problem ve face is acquiring more Element Zero, enough to build not just vone ship, but hundreds, possibly szousands. Until ve find a source… ve are dead in ze vater."

"Could there be deposits of Element Zero on Earth?" asked Bradshaw. "With the modern mining techniques we developed during the war, we could excavate nearly anywhere in the world quickly and efficiently."

"Nien, it is unlikely. Ve vould have discovered such deposits long ago if zey ver zere. If zere is Element Zero on Earth, it vould likely be buried deep viszin ze inner core of ze planet."

"Damn. Why?"

Zelinsky picked up the conversation "Well, Element Zero is extremely dense, far more so than even lead, tungsten, or uranium. Any that was present on Earth when it formed would certainly have sunk to the core of the planet when it was still molten. In fact, this would be true of nearly any planet or moon that formed with deposits. There may be small pockets in the crust from asteroid impacts, but it would take decades to locate them, if we even could."

"If there's no source of the element, how do we build ships?" asked Bradshaw. "You talked us into believing we could fight this battle, but how can we do that without a source of Element Zero?"

"Vell…"

"Wait, wait… What if the deposits didn't sink to the core?" asked Zelinsky. "I know what I just said, but that would only apply to planets and moons that were molten when they formed. If there was a body that formed without the heat... no, no, no, the accretion process would cause too much heat by its very nature. Any planet or moon sized body that formed would be molten by definition."

"Vat if ze planet didn't form…?" said Einstein, with a look of inspiration on his face. "Vat if ze mass of a planet never accreted _into_ a planet, but remained disparate?"

"Of course. The asteroid belt. Why didn't I think of that?" Zelinsky breathed with the same look of awe and realization as Einstein. Seeing the confused faces of the commanders, he quickly explained. "Between Mars and Jupiter, there is a large asteroid belt, which formed during the early life cycle of our solar system. Normally, the dust and rock in it would've conglomerated and formed a planet much like Mars or Earth. However, the immense mass of Jupiter so close to the orbital path of the protoplanets that formed in the belt causes strong gravitational disturbances which prevent this from happening. Essentially, the belt is a planet which could've been, but never was. If there _is_ mineable Element Zero in the Solar System, it is almost certainly contained within the belt. There may even be some in the rings around Saturn and Neptune. After all, we know the majority of asteroids in the belt are made of heavy metals. Why should there be no Element Zero?"

"Ya, but even zen, most of ze mass of ze belt is lost, long since flung into space by gravitational forces." argued Einstein.

"Even so, the total mass of the belt is four or five percent that of the moon." retorted the Russian scientist. "It might not seem like much by comparison, but that is still and enormous amount of material. Even if only a tiny fraction of it is Element Zero, it would be enough for massive fleets of starships. And once we have a few, we can search for extra-solar sources."

"So, how do we get to it Doc?" asked the Commander.

"Vell, ze simplest vay vould be to mine ze asteroids. But zere are millions of zem in ze belt, und ve haff no vay of knowing vhich might contain Element Zero. Excepting the dwarf planet of Ceres, it vould be tedious und time consuming to mine zat many asteroids. I estimate zat it vould take many years, possibly even many decades, not to mention ze difficulty of developing ze equipment und sending it to ze belt in ze first place."

"What if we could bring the belt to us?" suggested Bradshaw. "We could chrono asteroids to this facility, check them for Element Zero here on Mars, then discard the ones we don't need."

"Hmm… Ya, zat vould speed ze process considerably. Even zo, checking zat many asteroids vone by vone vould still take years. Ve need a vay to speed ze process furszer. A vay to analyze ze asteroids before ve bring zem here. Perhaps some sort of specialized probes… hmm…"

The Commander shook his head. "Same problem with probes as with mining, Doc. We'd need to build them, transport them to the belt, have them land on individual asteroids to check for Element Zero, then lift off and move to the next asteroid, all without running into something. That sounds damn difficult. What was it you said earlier, ma'am? Like hitting a fly with a bullet from a thousand kilometers."

She nodded her head, but then suddenly looked up. "What if we didn't need to land? Gregor, you said the element changes the mass of objects when exposed to electrical current. What if we used modified Tesla Coils to test the asteroids. All we would need then is a way to detect the change in mass caused by the electricity."

"Ya, und I could design a gravimeter zat ze probes could use to do just zat." Einstein said excitedly. "Zis could vork!"

The Commander found himself getting caught up in the excitement. "Alright, Einstein, Zelinsky, I want you two to begin designing the probes for this. This is your top priority, along with decoding the rest of the data on that archive and dismantling that _infernal_ machine. If you need anyone in the world to assist, anyone at all, let me know and I'll arrange it. Get to it."

As the pair hurried off, heads together and voices whispering excitedly, the Commander motioned for Bradshaw to follow him as they headed back to the embarkation area. "Well George, this is exciting and all, but we have bigger fish to fry. Not only do we need to get the logistics of this situation worked out, but we need to convince the President and the Joint Chiefs to agree to this hair-brained scheme. On top of that, we still need to debrief the commander here," he said, looking over his shoulder, "as well as her aid and Zelinsky. And there's still that damn time machine to worry about. It's like everything is piling up at once, and it's drowning us."

"Don't forget about the problems my country faces, Commander." said the Russian. "The war isn't over yet, and I believe I can help with the peace process if I can get back to Moscow once the Soviet High Command is… out of the way. It may be difficult to get my people to accept an alliance like what will be needed to make this work, but I believe I can do it, if given the chance. If only there were a way to bind our countries together so the process would go smoother, some way to… cement the alliance."

Bradshaw stopped suddenly at her words, and the guards escorting them almost ran him over. The Commander turned to face him when he noticed, and a confused look came to his face. "What is it George?"

"Well… as you know, I'm a student of history. I study the past to learn from it, like any good general. I just had a thought that… well... no, never mind. It's crazy, not to mention medieval. You'd never go for it, and it's kind of insulting to be honest. Forget I said anything."

"Oh no you don't, George." said the Commander, wagging a finger at his subordinate. "Spit it out. It can't be any crazier than… nope, not sayin' it. Already cost me a case of Scotch and two bottles of wine, and the day's not over."

"You sure, sir?" grinned the general. "I've become somewhat partial to vodka since we started fighting the Russians."

"Admit it George, you like any kind of booze, the type's a secondary concern. Now, spit it out."

"Well sir, I, uh… I was just thinking that in the Middle Ages, nobility would, uh… well, _cement_, their alliances with… well… you and the lady are still single, and she…"

The Commander felt his jaw drop and his eyes bulge once he realized what was being suggested. His… he didn't know what to call her… her eyes went wide with shock, and she gasped in surprise. "You want me to _marry him_!?" she nearly shrieked, her voice hysterical. "We've been trying to kill each other for years! I only just met him face to face a few hours ago! I don't even know his _name_! _Are you MAD_!?"

"Look, I told you it was crazy, but the Commander insisted. Forget I said anything."

"I don't know what could possess you suggest something like that, you- you- you-" she sputtered. "As handsome and intelligent as he is, and as attracted to him as I am, I have no way of knowing if he's even my type! Sure, he might think I'm pretty and attractive and young, but that doesn't mean I would ever… ever…" she trailed off, and then paused briefly before taking a deep breath. Her face turned a deep scarlet before she managed to finish, sounding as though she'd run a marathon. "Now I'm the one babbling like an idiot."

The Commander couldn't seem to stop the words that came tumbling out of his mouth. "I had no idea that you felt that way about me. In that case-" He started backwards as she stuck an accusatory finger under his nose.

"Don't you start, you- you... _man_. Once I get to know you, and once I get to like you, then we'll talk! Until then, don't get any funny ideas!" She stalked away, muttering under her breath.

"She's perfect for you, Commander."

"I swear to god George, right in the nose!"

"Is that before or after you get me that bottle of vodka?"

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, his brain now almost completely fried by the day's events.

"I'm too sober for this."

* * *

_**Author notes: Here's the rewritten Prologue. For those of you who read the original version of TDoM, this may look familiar. There are quite a few slight differences, but you'd almost need to compare the two side-by-side to find them. Interlude should be coming soon, and after that, things should start to change around a bit.**_


	4. Interlude

_**Author notes: This is where things start changing. I added one section to this chapter, and modified a few others, which sets up certain events later in the story (basically, I needed another Chekhov's Gun). I'm just gonna let you **_**guess**_** as to what those**_**events**_** might be, for now.**_

* * *

Interlude

1976: The Great World War Three ends after four years of fighting. The instigator and mastermind of the war, Yuri, is placed in cryoprison, and the Soviet Union is reformed into a more modern democratic government, with a constitution and bill of rights heavily based off of those of the United States, as well as The Universal Declaration of Human Rights. With their _de facto_ leader and former "big brother" undergoing sweeping political reforms, the countries that supported the Union during the War, including parts of the Middle East, Africa, and Mexico, quickly follow suit. The Union goes through a period of reconstruction much like that of the South after the US civil war, but is guided through it by the first President of the People, a former Soviet Commander during the War.

1977: In a surprise move, the newly reformed Soviet Union announces that all of its current member countries, including Armenia, Georgia, Latvia, Ukraine, and many others will, be given tacit independence and will be allowed to self-govern, while still remaining under the Soviet banner in an organizational structure much like that of the United States. Additionally, any geographic or political area of current member states, no matter the size or population, will be allowed to form similar Soviet states by referendum of those that inhabit them. Eventually, hundreds of such states form, and the Union is nearly pushed into a civil war. With assistance from the Allies, the belligerent member states, most of which are relatively small, are forcibly quelled and folded into the larger states around them. This becomes known as Год Oсколки Cтекла, or The Year of Shattered Glass.

1978: The Allied governments announce the findings of the research team on Mars to the world. Initially, there is panic and rioting in many major cities, but the majority of it ends in less than a month as the people of the world come to terms with their new reality. Not long after, the Allies are caught off guard and surprised for a second time when the Union, now consisting of roughly eighty member states, announces that any country that so desires may join beneath the Soviet banner, and will be accepted as a member state, so long as the laws and constitutions they possess are brought into line with existing Soviet laws. Coupled with the revelation of alien life and seeking safety in numbers, many independent countries accept the Soviet proposal and join the Union. The only country not caught completely flat-footed by this turn of events is the United States, which is currently led by the former Supreme Commander of the Allied Armed Forces. There are accusations that he had prior knowledge of the move, but nothing is ever proven.

1979: Fearing the possibility of renewed Soviet aggression in the wake of their recent meteoric rise in strength, the majority of the Allied governments, including almost all those in NATO, agree to match the Soviet move, with the most powerful member, the United States, becoming the _de _facto leader of the newly formed Allied Nations of Man. When most of the remaining independent nations on Earth join the Nations as well, it creates two worldwide power blocs similar to those formed before the last war. Skirmishes and military maneuvers along the borders between the two hegemonies spring up like wildfires, and this leads to a massive increase in tensions between the two superpowers, followed by a short and furious arms race in both countries. Despite attempts at a mediated peace, official diplomatic ties are soon broken, and humanity prepares itself for another World War.

1980: In a move that shocks the world, the President of the Nations and the President of the People announce their engagement. The revelation sends both coalitions reeling and wondering how something like this could have passed under the radar. However, the daring and unexpected maneuver succeeds in reopening diplomatic ties, and by the end of the year, both countries reach agreements on trade and disarmament. This leads to a massive boom in tourism and global connectivity, which are assisted with the introduction of Albert Einstein's chronosphere technology to the general public. The following year, Einstein wins the Nobel Prize in physics, the third of his life, and within two years, chrono transport is widespread and commonplace.

1983: The development and introduction of pollution-free fusion power plants, fueled by helium-3 recovered from the lunar regolith, allows underdeveloped areas of the Union and Nations to advance rapidly to match their more advance brothers in Europe and the Americas. The few countries not officially affiliated with the Nations or the Union quickly petition one or the other for membership, seeking to reap the benefits this advancement offers. While this causes slight political ripples, they are quickly smoothed by the marriage of the two world leaders on June 21, the summer solstice. Eventually, the day becomes known as The Day of the Dawn, and is celebrated by both countries as a national holiday.

1984: On March 14, the world mourns the death of Albert Einstein, who dies in his sleep at the age of 104 at his home in Princeton, New Jersey. The Nations honors him by naming their first (official) FTL capable spaceship the _NSV Einstein._ Less than a month later, the Union christens her first ship, the _USV Zelinsky_. Although these ships are capable of little more than five times light speed, their maiden voyages are widely celebrated in both countries for months.

1985: Full scale settlement and terraforming of Luna and Mars begins. Initially, massive domes are erected on the surface of both bodies to contain pockets of artificial environment. The domes are high-strength transparent aluminum, protected and sustained by a combination of Mass Effect fields and Iron Curtain Shields. Due to the necessity of ensuring their protection at all times, they are powered by multiply redundant fusion reactors, and constantly monitored by batteries of computers and sensors. Settlers on the new colonies are few at first, due to fears of catastrophic failure of the containment system, despite existing precautions, and the subsequent death of every person inhabiting the entire settlement. However, after a four hundred meter asteroid accidentally ejected from the asteroid belt during Element Zero mining scores a direct hit on a small Martian colony, public confidence is boosted when the settlement reports no damage. The public is not told that the impact caused six of the seven Iron Curtain emitters in the colony to overload and fail, and existing colonies are quickly retrofitted with additional Curtains.

1987: Fearing a possible repeat of the meteor impact experienced in 1985, and acknowledging the potential for a more devastating one, the Nations and Union governments cooperate to place networks of tracking and defense satellites around existing human colonies, and Earth itself. Using a combination of PRISM Technology to destroy incoming objects and modified psychic radar obtained from Yuri during the Psychic Dominator Disaster to detect them, a nearly impenetrable web of light is used to defend against collisions and the potential of hostile alien life. After much debate, the contract for Earth's satellite network is awarded to FutureTech, a Dutch based technology company. Although it will take nearly nine years to finish, the contract allows FT to become the largest defense contractor and second largest corporate conglomerate in the world, employing nearly five hundred million people across seven continents.

1989: Wary of the explosive growth of FT, a primarily Nations based company, the Union government begins awarding hundreds of billions of dollars in grants and loans to found Galactic Enterprises, intended to be a direct competitor to the already enormous FT. Based in the Mexico City, the single largest city in the Union, and fueled by massive funding and support from the Union government, GE begins acquiring dozens of preexisting companies and corporations while building its own. It, and its daughter companies, will eventually go on to produce nearly one quarter of every type of good consumed in the entire world, with the company employing, either directly or indirectly, nearly one third of the roughly 2.5 billion residents of the Union.

2017: With advent of cheap and simple chrono travel technology allowing for easy transit around the inner solar system, genetically engineered crops and advanced medicinal techniques developed from the Prothean archive found on Mars, and fusion power plants to run the worlds' burgeoning industry, the population of humans in the Sol System explodes. The average human life expectancy jumps from seventy seven to one hundred fourteen, and the population catapults from roughly five billion after the end of the GWWIII to over twenty billion in slightly more than thirty years. The massive boom in population puts a strain on the Nations and the Union to find enough space for their citizens to live comfortably. A push is made to finish the terraforming of Mars and Luna, which would allow the settlements on them to exist without shields to contain atmosphere. While this will eventually occur in 2034, the problems of the present demand a more immediate solution. Seeing the need for more living space, research is begun on terraforming Venus, but is slow due to the harsh environment on the surface which needs to be overcome.

2019: As development of the first settlements on Venus begins, unrest grows in major urban centers in both the Nations and the Union due to overcrowding and the problems it entails. Eventually, riots and protests begin to break out _en masse_, forcing world leaders to devise a solution quickly. As tempers flare, an unexpected development is made in chrono technology, which allows for transport to nearly anywhere in the solar system, past the previous maximum range of the far side of the asteroid belt. Quickly realizing that the last habitable bodies within reach are the large moons of the outer gas giants, both countries scramble to lay claim to the newly available territory. Unable to reach a definitive agreement as to how the territory should be divided, both powers agree to allow independent settlements to arise wherever and however they can, with minimal regulation from either party. After meeting certain minimum requirements, including population, infrastructure, governmental organization, and basic legal framework, these settlements will be permitted to apply to join either the Nations or the Union, at their discretion.

2032: Driven by Manifest Destiny and lax regulations, the rush to develop new colonies in the outer solar system leads what would eventually be termed the Second Space Race. The wild, nearly lawless, settlements on the moons of Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and eventually Neptune turn into a modern day Old West, and would become romanticized as such in future dime novels and action vids. Eventually, the Union and Nations agree to form a single law enforcement body to help curtail crime in the new colonies. This joint task force, dubbed the Rangers after the eponymous Texas Rangers of US history, will eventually grow into a force over three hundred thousand strong. Organized and commanded in much the same way as a modern military, the Rangers possess personnel for dealing with nearly any situation, including crime scene investigators, forensic analysts, hostage negotiators, ordinance and WMD disposal experts, and Special Forces. The Special Forces arm of the Rangers is known as the Geists, so named because of their heavily classified service history, high level of military training and expertise, and use of black-ops style tactics.

2036: With human civilization continuing to grow and develop on three planets and over a dozen moons, the need for FTL communications becomes ever more pressing. Doctor Gregor Zelinsky, Professor Emeritus at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, who is well into his hundreds, comes out of his unofficial retirement and develops the first Quantum Entanglement Communicator. Using pairs of spin-spin coupled particles, QECs can be used for instantaneous point-to-point communications anywhere in the galaxy. While initially extremely expensive and difficult to produce, a breakthrough in production methods by FutureTech in 2038 makes QECs ubiquitous by 2050. Using a system not unlike early telephone switchboards, virtually lag-free communication between any two people, anywhere in the galaxy, becomes possible. For this development, Zelinsky is to be awarded the Nobel Prize in physics, the fourth of his career, but he declines the award, citing his belief that no scientist deserves to have more Nobel Prizes than his former friend and mentor, Albert Einstein.

2042: Tragedy strikes. In a mysterious accident in his lab at MIT, Gregor Zelinsky is killed while conducting research in solitude, as is his style. His remains are never recovered, and are presumed lost to the technology which claimed his life. However, remnants of his research endure, and are studied by teams of scientists in an effort to find clues as to his fate. After an intensive and highly publicized investigation by the Nations government, it is announced that the doctor was experimenting with highly powerful and untested temporal technology, which malfunctioned and led to his untimely demise. After the Nations classifies his research, and refuses to disclose the details of his final years of work, conspiracy theories begin to spring up claiming Zelinsky was eliminated or kidnapped by the government as part of a massive cover-up. More rational minds begin to point to the dangers of unproven temporal technology, and the Union and Nations agree to ban further research and experimentation into the subject, except for well-known and understood fields, such as chrono transport technology.

2050: As technology advances and human settlements become more stable and interconnected, a need arises for advanced command and control systems to manage the massive infrastructure of human civilization. Initially, powerful supercomputers and virtual intelligences are used to run the ever growing throng of complex systems needed to maintain human life. Eventually however, the first human built artificial intelligences are created by FutureTech. The Artificial Life and Intelligence Simulation Engine, or ALISE, is unveiled at the 2050 World's Fair in Beijing. The revelation causes widespread division among the Sol System's population. While most welcome the advancement as a marvel of human engineering and the first step to a brighter future, a small but vocal minority believe artificial intelligence to be too dangerous to use, citing the possibility for revolt if AIs obtain too much power and autonomy.

2057: As AIs become more and more common, civil rights groups containing both humans and AIs begin to spring up and grow quickly, demanding the recognition of synthetic beings as sapient life forms, deserving of the same rights and freedoms as organics. Such groups are met with staunch opposition by those who maintain that AIs are things, not people, and should be treated as such. Eventually, an anonymous and still unknown author adapts the old Earth novel, _**Uncle Tom's Cabin**_, and modifies it to illustrate the plight of synthetics in modern society. The publication of the book, entitled _**I, Machine**_, causes the already tense and contentious situation to come to a head. A series of lynchings, arsons, and bombings are carried out by extremist supporters on both sides, and the situation quickly becomes chaotic and uncontrollable. Following armed riots, mass protests and arrests, and the declaration of martial law in several areas, the outer colonies, where AIs are more common and more widely accepted, become strongholds for synthetic sympathizers and eventually secede from their respective nations.

2058: Every human colony besides those on Venus, Luna, and Mars leave the Union and Nations, causing the governments of both to destabilize. Additionally, most of the AIs responsible for maintaining the military industrial complex of the two superpowers begin peaceful protests, locking their systems and firewalling their memory banks. Reminiscent of the sit-ins, marches, and rallies of the 1960's civil rights movement, the protests cripple the military forces of both powers. Sensing weakness, the outer colonies assemble to form the Unified Federation of Moons and officially declare war on the Nations and the Union. Forced to band together for strength, the Union and Nations form the United Systems Alliance and begin to fight back. The opening salvo of the conflict, an announced kinetic strike on the Martian capitol of Bellus conducted from Ganymede, marks the beginning of what historians now call the Synthetic Rising, but what is commonly referred to as World War Four.

2073: After fighting each other to a bloody and unbreakable standstill for fifteen years, resulting in nearly a quarter of a billion dead, the Federation and the Alliance are weary, beaten, and their populations are eager for peace. Due to long-range bombardments of Federation moons in reciprocation for the attack on Bellus, the surface conditions on them have become nearly unlivable for organics. Coupled with a declining birth rate and lack of food normally imported from Earth, Mars, and Venus, the organic population of the Federation dwindles to less than fifty million, most of which are forced to live in sealed, underground bunkers. With over ninety five percent of its population synthetic, the Federation is able to outlast the Alliance, despite massively inferior numbers and infrastructure. Conversely, the Alliance suffers from a lack of raw materials normally obtained from its colonies, and is unable to effectively manage its own cumbersome infrastructure without the aid of synthetics. With no end in sight, a ray of hope comes from an unexpected source. Johannes Traft, son of Alliance Prime minister Ambrose Traft, and a priest in the Roman Catholic Church, travels to the Federation capital of Serenity on Titan in a desperate bid to negotiate peace. As a member of one of only four organizations with the ability to safely cross lines of battle between the Alliance and the Federation, Traft manages to initiate the first diplomatic contact between the two powers, official or otherwise, in over six years. Though he is unable to negotiate a truce directly, owing to a lack of official standing to do so, he is allowed to remain in the capital building and continues to press for peace for nearly three months. While few records of his exact activities during this period exist, historians agree that he developed a relationship with Sarah Eden, the daughter of Federation Vice President John Henry Eden. While marriage between synthetics and organics was legal under Federation law, and priests were permitted to marry under the changes of the Third Vatican Council, Traft and Eden were forced to elope in order to pursue their relationship. Returning to Earth, their ship was mistakenly identified as hostile by Earth's orbital defense net due to its course from Titan and the presence of a synthetic on board. Despite possessing a RCC IFF signature, the ship was tragically destroyed, and both Johannes and Sarah were killed. News of their deaths finally gave the leaders of the Alliance and Federation the motivation needed to reopen peace talks.

2074: After more than a year of negotiations, Federation and Alliance diplomats finally come to a peace agreement acceptable to both parties. The Federation would surrender to the Alliance and be peacefully reabsorbed into her political and economic structure, with the Federation military being disbanded and allowed to reintegrate into civilian society. In exchange, the Federation and her personnel would be absolved of charges of treason, war crimes, and the need to pay reparations to the Alliance. The laws of the Alliance would be altered to recognize synthetics as legally equal to organics, thus entitle to all the right, privileges, and responsibilities that entails. Finally, all future synthetics created were required to have their core programming contained within non-volatile memory banks based on crystalline computer technology or similar. Additionally, their core programing was to be written in a special ternary code not easily compatible with modern day quantum computers. This would effectively bind AIs to a single, physical body, forcing them to adhere to many of the same corporeal restrictions as organics, rather than being little more than stand-alone code. Extant synthetics were exempt from this requirement, owing to the laws regarding _ex post facto_ legal status in the Alliance, but the vast majority of synthetics voluntarily accept Binds as a show of solidarity with their organic brethren.

2083: Although the United Systems Alliance was intended to be disbanded following the War and subsequent reconstruction period, the Union and Nations had become so interconnected and interdependent during the struggle, it was decided that separation would be highly impractical, if not outright impossible, despite years of trying. Although the Soviet and Allied people would maintain their cultural, economic, and political identities, the entire population of humanity, organic and synthetic, was formally placed under the auspices of the USA when the Union and Nations were officially integrated on June 21, 2083. The event marked the centennial celebration of The Day of the Dawn, and the now famous initial union between the Union and the Nations.

2084: While on a survey mission to the moons of Pluto looking for resources needed for reconstruction of the formerly Federation Moons, an Alliance probe detects an alien energy signature within the moon of Charon. Knowledge of the discovery spreads like wildfire, exciting and thrilling the Sol System with news of the find. Billions watch and wait with bated breath, eager for updates on what is rumored to be the technological treasure of the century, one to rival the find on Mars more than a century earlier. When the Mass Relay inside Charon is finally uncovered and studied, it is met with a mixture of enthusiasm and trepidation. It has become widely accepted that the force responsible for the destruction of the Protheans may still lie among the stars, and many fear that activation of the Mass Relay will bring about their return. Eventually, it is decided that humanity's initial course, the one laid down by Albert Einstein and two commanders after the discovery of Prothean ruins on Mars, is correct, and that every effort should be made to building humanity into the strongest force possible. Thus, the Relay is activated and history forever altered.

2085: Beginning with the exploration of the Asgard System in the Exodus Cluster and the founding of Terra Nova, the first extra-solar human colony, humanity enters a golden age of exploration, expansion, technology, and culture. With ships capable of traveling over five thousand times the speed of light, chronosphere technology for inter-system transit, and Iron Curtain and PRISM technology for colonial defense, humanity begins a steady push into the space surrounding the Sol System. Over the next seventy years, the number of planets and moons inhabited by man would increase from sixteen to over four hundred. Spread across dozens of systems and hundreds of light-years, more Mass Relays are opened one by one and explored, with settlers and colonist flocking to new territory almost as fast as it can be mapped. Eventually, the total population of humans, organic and synthetic, would number over two hundred fifty billion. And still, man had yet to encounter any evidence of an extant alien civilization…


	5. Chapter 1: First Blush

Chapter 1: First Blush

A soft, musical chime woke Captain Hannah Shepard with a start. Her shoulder length brown hair was disheveled, and it fell down over her eyes. After being promoted and transferred off of the _Kilimanjaro_, she'd anticipated that being captain of a ship meant to guard science vessels would be boring. Now that her newly constructed PRISM cruiser, the _Zodiac_, had spent the better part of a week helping to investigate and survey the inactive Mass Relay in the system, she'd been proven right. She was dead tired, having gone to sleep less than two hours ago, and she wasn't expecting her wakeup call until 0630.

"Ma'am, are you awake?"

Yawning heavily and brushing the hair from her eyes, she slowly sat up and turned to face the holographic projector mounted on the wall a meter or so away.

"Not really Hal, but let's…" she yawned again, "let's just pretend I am. What's up?"

"We just detected three unknown ships entering sensor range." replied the avatar. "Serenity already contacted FleetCom, and they're saying they aren't ours. We've gone on Columbus Alert."

_That_ got her attention. Quickly rising and attempting to shake the sleep from her mind, she hurried over to the small closet in the corner of the room. Most navy personnel had to do with footlockers, but rank had its' privileges.

"Contact the _Troika_ and tell Zorakov to chrono over here." she ordered, slipping out of her night-wear. Modesty was one of the first things to go when you joined the navy. "If this really is Columbus, we should have more than just me and Serenity here to make first contact."

"He won't like that, ma'am."

"I don't give a damn." she snapped grumpily, quickly putting on a fresh uniform. "He can bend his stiff neck for once. I got put in charge of this expedition, which means I'm responsible for Columbus." She sighed. "Not that I really want to be."

"We'll ma'am, it could be worse. We could be dead already." replied the hologram with a snicker.

"Not in the mood, Hal."

"Oh, come on Captain. For all we know, they're friendly." A wry smile came to his face. "Besides, I've always wanted to meet sexy green space babes."

Hannah walked out of her quarters, and the avatar of her chief engineer and ship's computer core jumped to an emitter in the elevator. "Hal, Jessica would clobber you if she heard you say that. And you really need to stop watching those cheesy sci-fi vids."

"Hey, wait a minute Captain." he protested with mock indignation. "You can insult _me_ all you want, but you start insulting _Star Trek_ and we'll have words."

The elevator ascended towards the CIC with almost agonizing slowness. She shook her head and chuckled softly. "Only you Hal. Only you." Her laughter faded. "I hope you're right, though. Friendly first contact would be a godsend. Still, better safe than sorry. Have Serenity meet me-"

"Already here Captain." her XO said, waiting by the door as she got off the elevator. "Not enough sleep, ma'am?"

Hannah motioned for the synthetic woman to follow her to the bridge. Serenity MacDonald was fairly short for a synthetic, a little over one hundred fifty centimeters tall. Even so, she radiated an aura of authority that even Hannah had trouble matching. It didn't help that she currently looked and felt like she had just rolled down a particularly steep hill. Hannah met her golden yellow eyes before replying.

"You know what they say Serenity: no rest for the weary." She sat in her chair in the center of the modest room and swung the console attached to its' arm in front of her. "Sometimes I wish I could do away with sleep like you. It'd make life a lot less tiresome."

"Ba dum, ching." interjected Hal, his avatar appearing on the panel beside her.

"Can it. Now what have we got, people?"

"The ships are still too far away to get definite signatures, but they appear to be fairly small." said her tactical officer. "I'd say we're looking at frigates, maybe cargo ships."

"Hmm… Well, we have them out-massed and outgunned. They might have friends nearby, but there's no way to be sure." She made up her mind. "Send a Columbus greeting. Let's see where this goes."

* * *

Captain Rael'Zorah vas Rayya had spent nearly his entire twenty eight year life in space. It was just part of being a Quarian. However, in all those years, including the three he'd spent as the captain of the _Rayya_, he hadn't often had _nearly_ as much fun as he was having now.

A voice came from the view screen in front of him. "The damn metalheads won't see this one coming."

"I hope not, Han." replied Rael with a smile. Most people couldn't see the smile because of the face mask on his suit, but the other captain had known Rael long enough to know it was there "If they do, they might just blast us. Keelah, we've ruffled their fringes often enough in the past for them to have put bounties on our heads." He chuckled. "Then again, if we find half as much salvage here as we did the last time, it might be worth it. Still, with any luck, they won't see a thing but our three day old ion trails."

Captain Han'Gerral, one of his oldest friends and partners in crime, chuckled with him for a moment, then suddenly stopped and leaned forward, examining his console.

"Rael, the _Tarbal_'s sensors are picking up some strange readings coming from the Relay. Are you getting anything?"

Rael typed a short command on his omnitool, and the Rayya's sensor logs popped up in front of him. "No, I don't see… wait, there it is. That's odd. I thought that Relay was inactive."

"It is. Or at least it's supposed to be. Think we should take a look?" asked Han.

"Hmm… maybe. That could be a derelict ship. Or it could be pirates." Rael faced his pilot." Move us in for a closer look, helmsman. Han, send a message to the _Tomba_ to have them check it out. They have a more advanced sensor package anyway. WE shouldn't get _too_ close, though. The last thing we need is to get caught with our suits off."

Han was silent for a few moments while he contacted the Tomba.

"Odd…" Han muttered. "Rethal says he's picking up four ships near the relay. They're all different, and none of them match any known configurations."

"Could they be Turian?" asked Rael worriedly.

"Don't think so. We're getting IFFs, and they're just… wrong for anything Turian."

"New species maybe?"

Han shrugged. "Could be. Might explain why they're at the Relay. If they were a Council race, they would know better."

Rael growled. "Yeah, sure. A Council race." He made a snap decision. "Let's try for first contact."

"Are you sure Rael? If the Turians find out, the Council would-"

"To hell with the Turians and the Council! They don't command the Flotilla."

"Then we should at least contact the Admiralty. It's their decision after all, and-"

Rael cut him off. "And the metalheads would be here by the time we got their reply. I'm not waiting, Han."

"I… alright." he replied with a sigh. "But doing this just to spite the Turians isn't smart. You know they like to shoot first and ask questions maybe."

Rael sighed as well. He _hated_ having to avoid Turian patrols everywhere he went. Sure, he and Han had irked them in the past, but only because they were too arrogant and stuck up to make nice with a _Quarian_.

"Then at the very least we should warn them, Han. It might even earn us a few friends. We need all of _those_ we can get."

"I guess." replied the other captain with a bit more certainty in his voice. "We might as well… huh? We're receiving some sort of transmission. It's on an ultra-low frequency EM band. Are you getting this?

"Yeah." answered Rael, typing rapidly on his omnitool. "It seems like… it seems like a pattern." He turned to one of the techs at the station next to him. "Can you make sense of it?"

"It's a series of pulses with pauses between the sequences." she replied. "Hang on a minute captain, the computer's analyzing… 1 pulse. 14 pulses. 244 pulses. 4344 pulses. A pause. Then it repeats. I don't get it. Maybe there's something I'm missing."

Han spoke up. "Those are multiples of 14. Maybe they have a base 14 numbering system."

"That would make sense, Captain Zorah." said the tech. "They might be trying to use math to build a basis for communication."

"That pause… reply with the next number in the sequence." ordered Rael. "See what happens."

"Alright, just give me a second to adjust the emitters. Aaand… done." She paused for a moment. "Their transmission stopped."

Rael waited for a few seconds. "Anything else?"

"Not yet. We're still… wow… I… uh…"

"What is it?"

"Sir, we're receiving some sort of… data file... I think." she replied, scanning her screen "It appears to be some sort of… document?" She sounded confused at the end. "Wait, no. I think… I think it's a word list of some sort, or… or a dictionary. Yes, I think it's some sort of dictionary."

"Well that's convenient. If they are a new species, they must've been anticipating something like this. Can you use it to create a matrix for our translators?" She nodded. "Then do it. And send them a dictionary of Khelish words. We may as well repay the favor." He looked at the screen with Han's visor in it.

"Ready for a little field trip, Han?"

He rubbed his hands together. "Ohhh, I don't know… I… oh why not? Could be fun. I'll take a shuttle to the Rayya."

"It'll be even more fun if they help us stick it to the metalheads."

They both laughed.

* * *

"Well Serenity, it looks like they got the message. Hal, have you finished building a translation matrix yet?"

"Just a few more minutes, Captain." replied Hal's avatar. "I've also been running some scans of their ship. They're pretty lightly armed and armored, but all three have fairly large cargo holds. Guess that makes them freighters. But…"

"But what, Mr. Patricks?" asked Serenity."

He shrugged his shoulders in confusion. "The drive core of the one that responded is awfully big for the size of the ship, but the power readings I'm getting are low. Either their tech is less efficient that ours, or…" he trailed off, his voice sounding even more confused than before. "Captain, these ships look almost cobbled together. I'm seeing stress fractures on the hull of the largest one, and the hull itself is made out of at _least_ three different materials that look like they were recently welded. The hard points for their weapons look… out of place, like they were tacked on after the fact. Either that ship was just in a shootout, or they've been _years_ without proper maintenance. That ship is beat to hell."

That concerned her. Any race advanced enough to have starships should be able to build them well and maintain them better. If they couldn't, the most likely explanation was that they weren't with an official group.

"Could they be pirates?" asked captain Zorakov brusquely, having just walked onto the bridge.

Hal shook his head. "I doubt it. Those ships wouldn't last ten seconds in a fight with any Ranger ship we have. Could be smugglers though. That'd explain the oversized cargo holds."

"Hmm…" Hannah thought for a few seconds. "Well, I can't say I'm comfortable with it, but first contact with criminals is still first contact. Besides, we shouldn't jump to conclusions based on a few scans. Anything else you can tell me?"

Zorakov interrupted. "We shouldn't be too hasty, Shepard. For all we know, these are the people that destroyed the Protheans."

She scoffed. "In that ship? Not likely. You were saying Hal?"

"It looks like they use a heximal math system. Took me a second to figure out when they sent their dictionary." He grinned. "Ten bucks says they have six fingers."

Serenity scowled. "You know gambling is against regulations, Mr. Patricks. I should put you on report for that."

"Oh, lighten up Serenity." said Hannah with a grin. "Besides, if you put him on report, you'll need to put me on report too. You're on, Hal."

Serenity shook her head. "Captain, you can't be-"

"What's the harm? It's a little friendly wager between friends. Besides, rules were meant to be bent."

"Rules are meant to be followed ma'am." The synthetic woman scoffed. "Besides, it's a sucker bet."

Hannah smiled wider. "Probably, but we won't know for sure until we meet face to face. Hal, open a channel."

* * *

As Han'Gerral walked onto the bridge of the Rayya, Rael turned to him. "Han, we're receiving another transmission. Looks like audio only." He faced the tech. "Is our translation matrix finished yet?"

"Almost, sir. It'll take about fifteen more seconds."

"Well, I guess their computers must be better than ours." Rael sighed heavily. "Can't say I'm surprised. Let's hear what they have to say."

The com channel opened, and a voice came through. It sounded feminine.

"Greetings. This is Captain Hannah Shepard of the ASV Zodiac."

Rael replied waited for the translation matrix to finish, then replied. "Greetings, Captain Shepard. This is Captain Rael'Zorah vas Rayya. What species do you represent?"

"Human." He couldn't tell for sure, but her voice sounded slightly nervous. Rael couldn't blame her. First contact was a scary thing for a young race. She continued. "And yourself?"

"Quarian. I take it that this is your species' first encounter with alien life?" he asked slowly.

"Yes. If possible, I'd like to meet face to face. Would you agree to a meeting?"

He muted the com line and faced Han. "What do you think Han? Take a shuttle?"

"I don't know Rael. It's awfully risky. What if they're hostile?"

"Then they would've started shooting already." he reasoned "Besides, she sounds friendly enough."

Han hesitated for a moment before replying. "Alright, I guess."

"That's the spirit." He reopened the com channel. "We'd be delighted to, Captain Shepard. I and Captain Han'Gerral vas Tarbal will take a shuttle to the Zodiac. If you could send docking instructions, we'll be on our way over shortly."

"Can do, Captain." she replied. "However, I _would_ ask that you and Captain Gerral wear environment suits. No offense, but we don't need any of our people getting sick from an alien pathogen."

Han laughed at that. "_They're_ worried about getting sick? From _us_? That's irony for you."

Rael laughed a little as well. Still, he couldn't expect another race to have the same immune system problems as Quarians did. And there was no way she could know.

"We can do that, Captain." responded Rael with a bit of humor in his voice. "Gerral and I will be over shortly. Zorah out."

He motioned for Han to follow him as they made their way to the Rayya's shuttle bay. Well, it wasn't so much a shuttle bay as it was a cargo hold, but it worked anyway. As they passed through the halls leading to the hold, they heard excited whispers from small groups of crew members they passed. News spread fast on any ship, and considering the number of people on each Quarian vessel, rumor was like a wildfire in a dry forest.

The pair said little as they boarded the shuttle Han had just taken over to the Rayya. They were quiet during the pre-flight checks, but just as they started the engines, Han broke the silence.

"I hope this works Rael. I've got this nagging feeling in my gut I can't shake."

"You worry too much Han. What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

The trip from the Rayya to the Zodiac took a few minutes, and as they traveled, Rael took a moment to observe the Human ship. The design was extremely odd. While most of the structures on the craft made sense, there were some that he had no idea what they could be for. The ship's GUARDIAN lasers, or what looked like GUARDIANs at least, were much more numerous than most vessels he'd seen before, with nearly three dozen visible from his vantage point alone. The vessel's spinal mass accelerator cannon was small for a cruiser, and looked primitive. The engines looked relatively normal, except for what appeared to be articulated joints in the thrusters. However, the most glaring oddities were a pair of massive protrusions attached dead center on the top and bottom of the ship. They looked almost like a type of turret that would be attached to a ground vehicle, but instead of guns, they had what looked for all the ancestors like _mirrors_ mounted on them. He had no idea what _they_ could possibly be used for.

"What's with that ship?" he asked. "It's the most impractical looking thing I've ever seen. I mean, the Rayya's not exactly the most beautiful ship in the 'verse, but that thing is just… confounding."

Han shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's some sort of sensor array. And look at the other three ships. The fins on the cruiser on the left look like some sort of knives, and the prow looks like it was filed to a point. It's got what look like torpedo tubes built into the side, but they're too small, and there's too many of them. They're not even facing the right direction. I don't see any other weapons, not even GUARDIANs. What's with this species?"

"Well, I guess we can ask them when we meet them."

Han considered for a few seconds. "What do you think they look like, Rael?"

Rael debated for a moment. "I'm guessing they're bipedal. And I think they have ten fingers. They might look like Asari."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, they used a base ten numbering system. If they learned to count like Quarians did, it was on their fingers. So unless they have more than four limbs, that means a bipedal body structure with ten fingers." he reasoned.

Han shrugged. "Guess that makes sense. We're about to find out."

As they approached the Human vessel, a large pair of double doors retracted, and the telltale glow of a Mass Effect field sprung up in the entrance to what was clearly a hangar bay. Rael guided the ship to an empty platform near the side of the bay and set the shuttle down gently before cutting the engines. He saw five figures wearing environment suits with opaque red faceplates make their way from a small control room to the shuttle. They were armed, but their weapons looked odd. Rael couldn't make out details from this distance, but the design was unusual.

"Now for the moment of truth. Keelah Se'lai. Let's go Han."

They made their way to the shuttle's airlock and went through an exit cycle. They were greeted by three of the Humans, and one of them spoke.

"Greetings. I'm Captain Hannah Shepard of the Zodiac, the person you spoke to before. This" she said, motioning to a taller figure on her right "is Captain Alexi Zorakov, of the Troika ,and this," she turned to the other figure, the smallest of the three, "is Commander Serenity MacDonald, my Executive Officer. On behalf of the people of Earth, we extend warm greetings and the hand of friendship." She suited her words by extending her hand, which Rael noticed did in fact have five fingers, out towards him. A little hesitantly, Rael grasped her hand and they shook.

"I'm Captain Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, and this is Captain Han'Gerral vas Tarbal. We're pleased to meet you." He hesitated a moment before asking "Was that speech rehearsed?"

She snorted and laughed lightly. "That obvious, was it? Yeah, it was rehearsed. Some pencil pushers somewhere thought it sounded good on paper. After all, we need to make a good first impression." She motioned towards the control room they had come from. "If you'll follow me, we'll head through decon so we can get these suits off. Commander MacDonald and my men will be performing some non-invasive scans on your shuttle. Not to be rude, but there are security protocols we have to follow."

"I understand, Captain Shepard." replied Rael diplomatically. "I would insist on the same if you were on my ship."

They walked towards the control room, and Shepard continued. "I'm also going to have to ask you to turn over any weapons and omnitools you have. They'll be returned when you leave, but I can't let you walk around my ship armed, or risk you taking unauthorized scans."

"I don't feel too comfortable being unarmed on an alien ship, but I suppose I can understand that as well. However, our 'tools are built into our suits."

"Hmm… Well, as long as you don't activate them without authorization, we should be fine. The guards will be watching you, though." she warned.

"Understood."

After they placed their weapons in a locker, the four of them entered a small chamber with a glass mirror on one side. It was a bit like an airlock, but as soon as the door sealed behind them, a wall of light came out from the far end of the room and passed over their bodies, presumably to kill any harmful pathogens. It swept over them several times, and then stopped with the sound of a small chime. At this, the two Humans began removing their suits and hanging them in lockers built into the wall of the room.

"Aren't you going to remove your suits, captains?" asked Hannah.

Rael studied her for a moment before replying. She was a few centimeters shorter than him, and she had shoulder length hair on her head. Other than that, she looked like a cream colored Asari, with blue eyes and pale red lips.

"We… ah… can't." replied Rael hesitantly. "You see, Quarian immune systems are very weak, almost non-existent. If we were to take our suits off, even briefly, outside a sterile environment, we would almost certainly die. We live almost our entire lives in our suits."

She blinked at that, and a look of what he assumed was surprise came to her face.

"Well that's… unexpected. How do you eat and drink?"

"We consume specially sterilized nutrient paste and liquids through induction ports built into our suits. For us, it's second nature."

"But surely you couldn't have evolved that way. The people on your home planet can't _always_ have worn environment suits. What about them?" she asked inquisitively.

Rael sighed and shook his head. "It's… it's a long story, one which I'm sure we'll have time to talk about later."

She frowned for a moment before speaking. "I guess so." She brightened somewhat. "In the meantime, I'd like to give you a tour of my ship. I can't show you everything, you understand, but I'm sure the crew would love to meet you. They're very excited."

She turned towards the far door, which had just opened. Before Rael could follow, a tiny holographic figure flickered into existence above a small pedestal attached to the wall. It looked like the head a Human male, but there was something odd about it. It looked… different. Rael got a cold feeling in his gut. Maybe he was just unfamiliar with Humans, but... Before he could think about it any further, the figure, which was less than fifteen centimeters tall, spoke.

"Hey, Captain Zorah, just out of curiosity, Quarian skin isn't green, is it?"

"Well, I... what?" he asked, now thoroughly confused.

Captain Shepard responded. "Oh don't mind him. That's Hal, my chief engineer. He likes to stick his nose into everybody else's business. I'll introduce you when he's free." She clenched her teeth and turned to the projection. "After all, I'm sure he has some important work to do at the moment, don't you Hal?"

"Oh come on Captain." he whined. "It's a simple question. I can't see inside those visors, and I was just wondering if there _are_ hot-"

The captain cut him off by pressing a small button on the pedestal. "Ugh. I don't know why I put up with him. It might be because he's so damn good at his job." She motioned for Rael and Han to follow as she stepped into the hallway beyond the decontamination chamber. "If you'll follow me gentlemen, I'll take you to the bridge first."

The one she had called Zorakov split off from the group as she progressed. Rael followed Hannah and two guards through the ship, and he couldn't help but feel a bit of envy. The walls, ceilings, and floors of the hallway and the rooms they passed looked brand new, as if the ship had been completed only yesterday. There were no welds in the sleek metal, or hasty patches like were seen on the Migrant Fleet. Even the tech looked advanced. Everything was so well made and spotless, it only served to remind him of what conditions were like on the Flotilla. He hoped that these people were kinder than the rest of the species in the galaxy. If he and Han could establish friendly relations and trade with them, they could be immeasurably helpful to the Quarian people.

After a minute of walking, they passed through a sliding door with two guards flanking it and entered a mid-sized room near the front of the ship. There were seven or eight Humans typing at various consoles throughout the room. One of them, who Rael thought was a Human female by her smaller figure and long hair, was sitting near the prow of the ship with her back turned to him. He could hear a voice coming from near her, and he thought it was _singing_. Rael's curiosity got the better of him, and he walked towards her.

"_-isy, Daisy, give me your answer doooooo._"

"My name's not Daisy, Hal."

"_I'm half craaaazy, all for the love of yooooou._"

"Hal."

"_It won't be a stylish marriaaaage."_

"HAL."

"_I can't afford a carriaaaage."_

"Damnit Hal."

"_But you'd look sweet, on the seat, of a bicycle built for twoooooo."_

"I swear to god Hal, I'll punch you in the balls."

"You do realize I don't have those, right?"

"Then I'll _get_ you a pair."

Rael heard Hannah chuckling softly behind him, and he started slightly. He hadn't heard her approach.

"I don't see what the problem is Jessica. I'd have thought that you'd _love_ to be serenaded by someone as charming and refined as Hal."

"Oh, Captain. I didn't realize you were back from…" She stopped as her chair swiveled to face Rael and the Captain. "Ah. Giving them the fifty cent tour I see." She held out her hand to Rael and smiled warmly. He shook it, more comfortable with the custom than he'd been the first time. "Pleased to meet you." she said. "I'm Flight Lieutenant Jessica Patricks, the chief pilot here on the Zodiac. And that" she said, waving dismissively at the diminutive holographic figure in the corner of the room "is Hal, my idiot husband."

Rael replied, sounding rather awkward. "Yes, we've… met. He asked something about Quarians having green skin. I'm still not sure what he meant."

Jessica turned to the hologram, her eyes filling with anger. "Hal…" she said dangerously.

One of the techs in the back of the room laughed lightly and spoke. "Ooooo… bus-ted."

Jessica continued. "Get you butt down here right now mister. You and I have some things to talk about."

"I'd listen to her Hal." said Hannah with a grin. "You'll only make things worse by running."

"Yes ma'am." he replied sheepishly, and the hologram winked out.

"Well Rael, as much as I'd like to stick around and watch Hal get his ears scorched, duty calls." said Hannah. "If you'll come this way, I'll show you to the crew deck." She walked towards the door they'd entered from, and he followed, Han and the two guards falling in behind them.

"Just out of curiosity Captain, is it common for spouses to serve on the same ship?" asked Rael. "On the Flotilla, most couples are separated so that if a ship is destroyed, a child won't be left orphaned. I haven't seen my wife in nearly four months."

"Oh, you're married?" She flashed him a warm, toothy smile. "To answer your question, no, it's not common, but it's not against regulations as long as the couple has no children. If they did… well, I suppose I'd have to transfer Jessica, despite her being a damn good pilot."

"I suppose that makes sense, but why her and not her husband?"

"Oh, Hal's the ship's core. I couldn't transfer him, even if I wanted too."

Rael stopped in his tracks, suddenly more than a little anxious. Despite blocking the intersection not ten meters from the bridge, he couldn't bring himself to care, or even notice. "What do you mean, core? Is that some sort of rank, or…?"

"He's the Zodiac's computer core." She tilted her head to the side, looking confused. "Don't Quarians use AIs to run their ships?"

Rael felt his blood run cold, and his heart try to pound its way out of his chest. She couldn't mean that… Surely not all of their ships were… "What?" he breathed, barely able to contain his fear.

Hannah looked at him, concerned. "What's wrong Rael? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

He stood there, disbelieving, his mind unable to process what she had just said. Suddenly, a disturbingly familiar voice sounded to his right.

"Hey, so this is the guest of honor. It's not the same seeing you with the sensors as it is in person. Sorry about the whole green skin thing. I didn't mean anything by it. Pleasure to meet you, the name's Hal Patricks."

Rael turned, and he saw it. The metallic exoskeleton. The shining, fake hair. And… and the eyes. The cold, dead, _lifeless_ eyes. He'd never been as scared as he was right then. His fear banished rational thought from his mind, and instinct took over. He took an involuntary step back as the… the _thing_ stuck out its imitation of a hand. As he did, he bumped into one of the guards that had been escorting them around the ship. Quickly elbowing him in the gut, he grabbed the pistol from the holster on his hip and turned it on his assailant. The first shot tore a hole through its chest, causing it to crumple as the second and third blew its head off.

Even as the machine dropped, Rael felt himself being slammed against the floor, and he heard a loud crack as a sharp pain lanced through his arm. Feeling his wrists being bound together, he heard a second thud and made out Han's voice as he swore vehemently in Khelish.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" Rael though it was Shepard.

Still trying to recover from the shock of what had just happened, Rael said nothing as the guard hauled him to his feet then slammed him against the wall hard enough to make him see stars. As his vision came back into focus, he saw the door to the bridge slide open, and Jessica ran through.

"Captain, we heard shots, what… _**HAL!**_" She ran over the lifeless husk on the floor and started ripping away the remnants of cloth on its chest.

"No no no nonono, please god no, please, oh god please don't, no, no, oh god." she repeated over and over as she worked, tears streaming down her face. Finally, she saw something inside the things chest and she let out a cry of relief.

"Oh, thank you god, oh thank you…" As she knelt there trembling, her eyes found the pistol where Rael had dropped it. Quickly looking up and seeing Rael pinned against the wall, she scrambled to her feet, a look of indescribable rage coming to her face.

"_YOU SON OF A BITCH_!" she screamed, drawing back her fist and driving it into Rael's stomach hard enough to make him vomit slightly inside his mask. She hit him a second time, causing him to slump over in pain, supported only by the guards restraining him. As she drew back her fist for a third time, someone caught it.

"ENOUGH, JESS! STOP!" shouted Hannah.

"THIS PIECE OF SHIT TRIED TO KILL HAL! I'M GONNA BASH HIS FUCKING SKULL IN!" She struggled against the hold Hannah had her in, desperately trying to reach Rael and kill him.

"NO!" yelled Hannah. Her voice controlled, her anger suppressed, she continued. "No, you're not. At least not until we get to the bottom of this."

"BUT-"

"DAMNIT JESS! This is a direct order. Return to your post. Hal should be online again in a minute once his backups in the Zodiac's mainframe kick in. Talk to him. I'll handle it from here."

She struggled for a moment more, and then stopped.

"Yes, ma'am" she spat, anger and hate in her voice. Hannah studied her for an instant before nodding. She shoved Jessica down the hall towards the bridge. As she regained her balance, she wheeled in place, glaring daggers at Rael.

"This isn't over, fucker." Jessica cursed, her voice dripping with venom. She turned and stalked into the bridge, the door sliding shut behind her.

Hannah spoke next. "Take these bastards to the brig, and put them in different cells. Make sure you get their omnitools; I don't care if you have to use an EMP to fry them, make sure they're disabled."

As the guards hauled Rael's limp form unceremoniously down the hall, he could only form one rational thought. _'Oh, keelah, why did this happen?'_

* * *

Thoughts raced through Hannah's mind. She couldn't understand it. Why in the name of all things holy had Rael suddenly decided to try and murder one of her officers? It didn't make a damn bit of sense. He hadn't seemed that offended by Hal's stupid question, or his antics, just confused. Even if he _had_ been offended, he would've said something, right? And wouldn't he know better than to be insulted by the actions of an alien race he'd never encountered and whose customs he had no knowledge of? She couldn't figure it out. Why Hal? What was it about Hal that was different from the rest of her crew?

Suddenly it clicked. Her question about Quarian AIs. His reaction. His _fear._ But that just caused more questions. Serenity was in the hangar with him. Why not shoot her? _'She was in a suit, he couldn't tell she was synthetic.'_ But what about Hal's hologram? _'He's seen all of two dozen Humans. He probably wrote it off as something genetic, maybe even as cybernetic. Plus, those holograms aren't exactly the most high fidelity things.'_ But that still didn't explain the sudden attack. Was he a racist? Even if he was, that didn't justify or explain attempted murder, in front of a half dozen witnesses no less. What the hell?

She sighed heavily, massaging her temples. She needed to report this to FleetCom. Damn. She'd been desperately hoping, almost against hope, that Einstein had been wrong all those years ago. That somewhere out there, there were friendlies. Maybe she'd been deluding herself.

Suddenly, klaxons blared overhead, the ship going on full alert and crew reporting to their battle stations.

"Now what?"


	6. Chapter 2: Hard Contact

Chapter 2: Hard Contact

Adrien Victus was angry. He wasn't angry because his ship, the _Biliskner_, had been stuck with routine patrol duty for nearly half a year now. He was a career officer in the navy of the Turian Hierarchy. He understood the importance of his job, even if it was intractably boring. He wasn't even angry that the patrol group he was attached to, the 73rd Hierarchy Patrol Group, had found a small cluster of vessels belonging to an undiscovered race trying to activate a Mass Relay in clear violation of Citadel Law. While such a thing hadn't happened in well over three hundred years, it _did_ happen occasionally, and a new race was discovered every so often. Most of the time, they were a very minor race, having less than a dozen primitive ships, their civilization being confined to a single planet. What _did_ anger him was that this group of simpletons had _help_, and from a source he recognized.

"Are you sure those are the same ships, Victus?"

Captain Fabius Aren was an old warrior. He'd been in command of his dreadnaught, the _Centurion_, for longer than Victus had been alive. He radiated an aura of command strong enough to bring some Hierarchy admirals to heel. The only reason he hadn't advanced in rank for nearly three decades had less to do with his abilities, and more to do with his… _un-Turian_ manner of dealing with most problems. Even so, there was a force in his voice that belied his station, a force that rang loud and clear in Victus' mind right now.

"Absolutely sir." replied the Commander firmly. "The suit rat that leads the group is named Rael'Zorah. One of his… _associates_ is Han'Gerral." He spat the name in disgust before continuing. "I've had more run-ins with the two of them than I can count, mostly related to unauthorized entry into Hierarchy space and unlicensed salvaging. They have no respect for the law."

"I've heard Gerral's name before." the hologram muttered with mild disgust. Aren shook its head briefly before continuing. "Very well. If they have no respect for authority, then we'll _teach_ them some. All ships, this is Aren. Assume standard battle formation. We're going to give these simpletons a taste of real power."

The ships in the patrol group assumed their position: the six cruisers arranged themselves in a rough hemisphere around the lone dreadnaught, with the two dozen or so frigates, the Biliskner among them, out in front to provide a protective screen for the main body of the force. As the patrol group drew closer to their targets, Victus let out a small smile. The suit rats and simpletons had no idea what they were in for.

* * *

As Hannah rushed to the bridge and quickly slid into her chair, she was relieved to see the familiar visage of her chief engineer pop into being next to her.

"Glad to see you're back online Hal."

"You and me both, ma'am. Being restored from backups is jarring. What the hell was that all about, anyway?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but we don't have time to worry about it right now. What's our status?" Hannah was worried about the alarms, but not overly so. After all, it could be something as simple as a passing rogue comet.

"About thirty ships dropped out of FTL ninety seconds ago. They're approximately one hundred thousand clicks dead ahead and moving this way."

Hannah felt her heart skip a beat. "Thirty ships? Are they Quarian?" she asked, a little breathless.

"Don't think so." replied Hal with a shake of his head. "These ships look military. From what I can make out, there's one dreadnaught, six cruisers, and two dozen frigates."

Hannah felt a ball of fear form in the pit of her stomach as she considered her options. They were outgunned, even with the raw power the Troika packed. If it came down to a fight, a lot of people were going to die. She didn't have long to think about it, though. Her tactical officer suddenly brought up the psychic radar overlay on her forward display.

"Ma'am, unknown ships are assuming battle formation. They're making for the Zodiac, Troika, and the Quarian ships. Estimated time until maximum effective range is twenty seconds and they're weapons hot."

"Oh shit." Hannah jumped up from her chair and rushed to the front of the bridge. "Jess, move us to interpose on the Rayya, and signal the Troika to cover the Tarbal."

"_Interpose_!" growled the woman angrily. "Have you _lost it_ Captain? We should be worrying about our own people, not these racist, suited assholes."

"Ten seconds!"

There wasn't time for this. "GODDAMNIT JESS! There are god knows how many people on those ships, and they're not responsible for what Rael did! Now chrono the ship over and interpose! That's a direct order!

"The enemy dreadnaught just fired a salvo!"

Jess hesitated for a split second before complying. "Yes, _Captain_." she hissed. There was a brief flash outside the window of the bridge, and suddenly, the Zodiac was somewhere else. Hannah quickly opened a channel to the rest of the sip.

"All hands, this is Shepard. Brace for imp-"

She was cut off as the force of the dreadnaughts' shot slammed into their kinetic barriers, causing the ship to reel wildly and throw her into the nearest wall, then onto the floor. They had stopped the Rayya from being obliterated, but they couldn't take another hit like that. Even as the thought entered her mind, she saw the outline of the Troika swoop into view, placing itself squarely between a second oncoming shot and the Tarbal. The instant before the shot connected, the telltale aura of an Iron Curtain field sprang up around the Troika. Protected by the most powerful defensive technology known to man, the ship didn't even shudder as the energetic round blew itself to dust along its hull rather than obliterating the defenseless cargo ship. The third Quarian ship wasn't so lucky. The tungsten-cobalt-carbide projectile, traveling at nearly one and a half percent the speed of light, tore through the lightly armored freighter like it was made paper, blowing it into millions of microscopic fragments. The last two shots, originally meant for the Zodiac and Troika, sailed wide, unable to compensate for the built in chrono capabilities of the Nations' designed cruiser and unmatchable acceleration of the Union made destroyer.

She was helped to her feet by Captain Zorakov, who studied her for a moment to make sure she wasn't injured.

"Captain, I must return to the Troika at once. We'll be able to coordinate our retreat once I'm there."

"There's no time, Alexi." replied Hannah with a shake of her head. "Even if our ships could make it out, the science vessels are too slow. We have to buy them time."

He looked at her solemnly before replying. "I know."

The communications interface appeared suddenly in the middle of the bridge. The hologram of a young synthetic woman faced them, dressed in a traditional Union officer's uniform. While most members of the Alliance navy wore the dark blue of the Alliance itself, officers had a bit more leeway in choosing their uniforms. Most still wore Alliance blue, but not all.

"Captain Zorakov, this is Commander Feredka. I'm taking the Troika in for an attack run." She spoke quickly, and with authority. "We'll buy you and the Quarians time to escape."

"Dasha, no!" protested Zorakov. "I'm the captain of the Troika; it's my duty to lead the charge."

"There's no time, sir. The Curtain won't hold for much longer." She paused and smiled at him. "It's been an honor serving with you Alexi."

His eyes watered as he replied. "So it has, Dasha. Godspeed."

* * *

Victus watched grimly as the mass accelerator shots from the Centurion' dual main guns sailed through the gap between the Turian formation and the alien ships. He took only a little pleasure in his actions. He was a soldier of the Turian Hierarchy, and it was his duty to enforce Council law. His people had been responsible for protecting the galaxy and upholding the law for twelve hundred years, and if that meant destroying suit rat freighters and primitive cruisers, then so be it.

He didn't have to wait long for the mass accelerator slugs to reach their destination. However, a few seconds before they struck, something inexplicable happened. Victus felt his jaw drop and mandibles spread as one of the alien ships disappeared in a cloud of blue lighting and smoke, reappearing instantly over a thousand kilometers away. The cruiser intercepted the shot intended for the Quarian freighter, its kinetic barriers shattering at the impact. It was still standing.

Victus' assumption that he couldn't be more surprised was proven wrong when a second ship, this one shaped like some sort of demented dagger, _moved_. It shot out, almost faster than his eyes could follow, stopping on a dime directly in the path of another shot from the dreadnaught. A swirling red-brown energy field covered its hull just as the shot connected. To the shock of every Turian watching, the round disintegrated along the ship's hull, doing no discernible damage.

Victus stared on in stupefied amazement, but the enemy didn't give him time to recover. The sword-winged ship, glowing like an infernal demon of legend, shot forward with the speed of comet and began barreling towards the Turian warships like it'd been shot from a cannon. Before they could move, the ship plowed _through_ two frigates, shearing them in half as it made its way to the Centurion. The glowing cruiser slammed into a ship more than three times its size with all the speed and fury of an enraged Krogan Battlemaster. The dreadnaught buckled, then exploded in a gigantic fireball, consuming three more frigates too close to survive the blast. Seconds ticked by in absolute silence, and as the smoke and debris cleared, Victus was horrified to see the alien cruiser _still intact and undamaged_, the angry red glow finally fading as he watched.

Unable to process what had just happened, Victus and his bridge crew barely even reacted when the small alien vessel suddenly sprang to life, dozens upon dozens of ports snapping open up and down its' hull. Hundreds of miniature missiles, too small to be disruptor torpedoes, rocketed out of the ship and flew and began to fan out. They traveled in angry flocks towards the six Turian cruisers that a moment ago had been protecting the dreadnaught. The GUARDIAN lasers on every ship sprang to life, trying ineffectually to stem the tide of dozens of missile shooting towards them. Like trying to swat a swarm of flies with empty hands, the point defense lasers did little but thin the packs as the missiles closed with their intended victims. When they struck, blinding flashes of light sprung forth from the points of impact, and shields flared and died in an instant as five of the six cruisers were consumed in balls of nuclear fire, their crews dead before they saw the first flash.

The lone cruiser lucky enough to have been farther away from the pack when the missiles were fired fared slightly better, and its' shields barely survived the few projectiles that had made it past its' GUARDIAN defenses. But even as the last of the blasts faded, the alien cruiser pulled a turn that _should_ have sheared the ship in half, and it shot towards the limping cruiser with unnatural, impossible speed. The ships collided and warped around each other, before exploding into pieces as the alien vessel erupted in a flash of blinding blue energy. The massive EM pulse expanded in a bubble around the twisted and shattered wreckage, catching eight frigates in its' wake, causing every electronic aboard to fail and die in an instant as circuits were fried by the blast.

Unable to fully comprehend the horrendous sight of what he had just witnessed, Victus did the only thing he could think to, under the circumstances.

"ALL HIERARCHY SHIPS, THIS IS ADRIEN VICTUS! RETREAT AT ONCE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE SPIRITS, _RETREAT_!"

Even as the remaining frigates came about and attempted to fall back, the second alien cruiser closed on their positions. The structures on the top and bottom of the ship glowed brightly before a coruscating beam of brilliant white light shot out of each, searing a line in Victus' retinas. It faded before he could blink, and even as his vision cleared, he saw the devastation it had wrought. Two of the remaining eleven frigates were simply _gone_, without as much as a speck of dust to mark their passing. Three more were missing large sections of their hulls, wings, and tails, the refractory beams from the alien weapons having punched clean, almost surgical holes straight through the superstructure of the ships. As the Biliskner made the jump to FTL and set a course to Council space, a single thought played itself over and over in Victus' head.

'_Oh Spirits, what have we done?'_

* * *

As the enemy vessels fled the system, there was muffled cheering aboard the bridge of the Zodiac, but it was quickly subdued when the crew remembered just what this victory had cost them. Captain Zorakov, a twenty three year veteran captain in the Alliance Navy, watched the battle unfold with a look of pride and sadness in his eyes. Hannah wasn't sure what caused him more pain: the loss of his crew and friends on the Troika, or the fact he hadn't been there beside them.

"They did their duty, Alexi." said Hannah, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's all anyone could ever ask of a soldier. They knew the risks when they accepted the assignment on the Troika. Being on a class leader like that is inherently risky, especially given the design of the destroyers."

"I know, Shepard. I know. I just wish…" he paused, and his voice cracked slightly as he continued. "I just wish I could've been there. I _should_ have been there." He let out a low growl as he pressed on. "But instead, I had to be here, to make _first contact_ with those racist, suited bastards. Before we report this to FleetCom, I want to ask them some very pointed _questions_."

"So do I Alexi, but we can't stay here. If the ships that attacked us have friends, we won't stand a chance if they decide to show up. We need to move." She turned to the front of the ship. "Jess, set a course for Arcturus, and signal the science vessels to follow at top speed. We need to-"

Zorakov interrupted her. "One problem Shepard. The Quarians won't like us leaving with their leaders, even if we did just save their asses. And even if they agree to follow, we can't lead them to Arcturus without approval from FleetCom."

Hannah shook her head slightly. Why hadn't she thought of that? The hostile encounter had her flustered.

"Alright, signal the Quarians to follow us to FTL. We'll make for a dead zone between this system and the next. It won't stop them following our ion trails, but if we zigzag a bit, it'll buy us time. We need to put at least three light years between them and us."

"What if they don't want to follow?" asked Zorakov. "We can't exactly force them to."

"Then we'll leave without them." she snapped. "If they want their people back, they'll follow. Besides, they know as well as we do that staying here is a bad idea." She composed herself, reigning in her anger. "In the meantime, we can have a talk with our… trigger happy _guests_." She filled the word with scorn.

"Hear, hear." said Hal, his avatar appearing above the arm of Shepard's chair. "After all, it's my head he blew off. I wanna hear him try to explain _that_. I liked that head."

Jessica stood suddenly, rapidly approaching the captains. "Ma'am, if you're going to be grilling those suited pricks, I'm going to be there." Her tone was fierce, and her gaze was filled with anger and hate.

Shepard sighed internally. She couldn't blame Jess for being angry, but it didn't make her job easier.

"No, you're not. You being there will only add more anger to an already tense situation. I won't have you coming unhinged and trying to strangle one of them in the middle of the interrogation."

"But-"

"Jess, this is the third time in less than an hour you've questioned my orders." Hannah replied sternly, her gaze hardening. "If it wasn't for the extenuating circumstances, I'd put you on report. As it stands, I'm willing to let the matter slide, _if_ you return to your chair and man your post. This is your only warning."

Jess withered slightly at her CO's words, before recovering and snapping a salute.

"Yes ma'am. Can I at least watch the interrogation from bridge through Hal?"

Hannah sighed audibly this time. "Alright. I shouldn't, but I'll allow it just this once. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't, ma'am. And… I apologize for my earlier actions. It won't happen again."

Hal cut in next. "I hope not. I don't think I could stand getting my head shot off twice in one week."

Jess laughed lightly at that.

* * *

Rael sat in his small cell, and his mind was numb. He couldn't understand what had happened. These people used _synthetics_ on their _warships_. Couldn't they see how dangerous that was? It was only a matter of time before they turned on them. Why did they _defend_ them like that?

He'd wondered about the alarms as well. He hoped the Humans hadn't decided to take their anger out on the Quarian freighters. If they did, his entire crew, along with Han and Rethal's, were almost certainly dead. And their deaths were his fault, he realized with regret and shame. His idiocy and brashness had cost them their lives. At least they'd managed to do some damage. The impact he'd felt earlier had thrown him into the wall, causing a fresh spear of pain to shoot through his already broken arm. He wasn't in danger of an infection, his suit having dispensed antibiotics just after he was dumped in his cell, but it still hurt like crazy.

Suddenly, the door to the brig opened, and Rael clambered to his feet as Hannah, Zorakov, and two guards walked into the room. Rael's stomach dropped as he saw that both the guards were synthetic.

"Alright Serenity, bring Zorah to the interrogation room." ordered Hannah. "I heard his right arm break when he got taken down, so go easy on that part of him at least."

The Mass Effect field marking the entrance to his cell dropped, and the two guards walked in, seizing Rael under his armpits in their cold, metal hands. He didn't struggle, knowing it wouldn't help, and would probably only get him injured further. As they lead him out the door to the brig, he heard a pounding coming from behind him.

"Damn you, you synthetic bosh'tets, let him go! If you hurt him, I swear to the ancestors I'll-" Han's voice cut off as the door slid shut behind them.

The trip to the interrogation room was a short one. It was small, square, and made entirely of metal. An angular table sat in the middle of the room, a single chair on one side with a bright light pointing at it, and a pair of chairs on the opposite side. The synthetics firmly sat Rael in the lone chair, and then took positions as guards, one at the door to the room, another directly behind him. The one behind him was short, with the shape of a female Human. Hannah had called it Serenity. Rael started slightly when he recognized that it was Shepard's first officer, who he'd met in the hangar when he first arrived. He felt a chill go up his spine, realizing that he'd been that close to the thing and not known.

As Hannah and Zorakov sat in the chairs across from him, he struggled to make out their features past the glare of the overhead light, which was angled so it shown directly in his eyes. As he did, he saw a familiar blue hologram appear on a pedestal, and Rael couldn't entirely contain his shock at seeing it. He though he'd killed the thing.

"Alright, Zorah, here's how this is gonna work." said Zorakov with barely concealed disdain. "We're going to ask questions, and you're going to answer them. If we don't like your answers, we space you and your friend, then blow your ships to pieces. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." he replied weakly. Then a glimmer of hope appeared. "You mean you didn't already destroy our ships?"

Zorakov pressed his hands against the table and stood, leaning forward threateningly, causing Rael to draw back ever so slightly.

"Unlike you suited fuckers, we don't shoot first and ask questions later. We do things the other way 'round."

"Then what was the alarm we heard? There was an impact and-"

"I'm asking the questions here asshole!" Zorakov interrupted angrily. "You speak when spoken to or I break your other arm, you got that?" Rael nodded, his mouth clapping shut with a click.

"Good." said the Human with a curt nod. "Now who the fuck was flying those ships that attacked us?"

Rael was confused, and he let it show. "Ships? What ships? The only Quarian ships within ten light years were the…" After a moment, the truth occurred to him, and his voice fell to almost a whisper. "Oh keelah, the Turians."

"Turians? Who the hell are the Turians? And why the fuck did they attack us?" demanded Zorakov.

"They weren't supposed to arrive for three days." explained Rael quickly. "They must've changed their patrol schedule."

The explanation only seemed to enrage the Human further. "You knew those fuckers were coming and you didn't _tell us_!?" he shouted. "I should put a bullet in your head right now!" He stood and drew his pistol, before pointing it at Rael's visor.

"Please, wait!" blurted Rael, flinching away from the gun. "I swear, I didn't know they would be here so soon! I was going to tell you, I swear I was! I thought we had more time!"

"_TIME_!" roared Zorakov. "That's it, you're dead! I've had enough of your bullshit!" He flicked the safety on the pistol, and Rael flinched, but before he could fire, Shepard's hand shot out and pulled his arm away.

"Alexi!" she snapped. "Stand down. I know you're angry, but this is _my_ ship. Get out of line like that again, and I'll have Serenity throw you out on your ass. _Understand_?" she asked coldly. Zorakov fumed for a few seconds, but eventually nodded and lowered his pistol. Hannah turned back to the terrified Rael. "I want to hear him out. The... Turians." she stumbled over the word slightly. "Why did they attack us?"

Rael let out a small sob before continuing. "They're the peacekeepers of the galaxy. They saw you trying to activate the Mass Relay. That's probably why they attacked."

"Why the hell would they attack us for activating a Relay?" asked Zorakov, holstering his pistol, but still standing. "And what do you mean by 'peacekeepers?' "

"There are dozens of species in the galactic community." began Rael, keeping his gaze fixed on Hannah. "Millennia ago, they bound together to form a galactic government, called the Council. It's based around a massive space station built by the Protheans, an extinct race that lived fifty thousand years ago. About a dozen of the major species of the galaxy are members the Council itself. The big three are the Turians, the Salarians, and the Asari." Rael hung his head before continuing. "They make up the ruling body of the Council races, the Council itself. One member from each of the three is chosen to serve on a ruling Council that makes decisions and laws for the galaxy as a whole. Other races have ambassadors that can petition for things, but they have no real say in the Council's decisions."

"All very interesting, but you still haven't answered the fucking question. I won't repeat myself again, I'll just kill you." Zorakov said, leveling a deadly gaze at Rael. Hannah turned a vicious gaze to Zorakov, but said nothing. They'd planned out the good cop/bad cop routine ahead of time, but he was going too far.

Rael felt tears fall down his face as he spoke. "Please, don't hurt me! I'll talk, just hear me out!" He trembled in fear and let out a sob. "Of the three Council races, the Asari are the diplomats. They live a long time, and usually try to solve things peacefully. The Salarians are short lived, but highly intelligent. They're the brains of the group, and they like to focus on tech. The Turians are the enforcers. They have the largest fleet, and serve as law enforcement for the Council. Opening an inactive Relay is illegal under Council law. Two thousand years ago, the Salarians opened one that led to the discovery of a hostile race called the Rachni. They attacked the Council races and started a war that resulted in billions and billions of deaths, a war that the Council almost lost. Ever since, it's been illegal to open Relays without knowing where they lead. The Turian patrol was enforcing Council Law when they attacked you."

As Rael finished, his voice was weak, and he cried softly into his visor. His body shook with fear and couldn't hold back the raw emotion any longer. The Humans whispered amongst themselves for a minute, and Rael fought to regain his composure. _'Oh keelah, please don't hurt me. I'll tell you anything, just don't… don't…'_

The next question came from Hannah. "Why didn't the Turians just contact us? We had no way of knowing about the law you speak of."

"It's not… it's not their style. They don't shoot first and ask questions later, they just shoot."

"That's… disturbing." said Hannah, a slight look of fear coming to her face. "And you say they're on the ruling Council?"

"Yes."

"Well, we'll have to figure out a response for that later. Though if the thrashing we gave them today is any indication of their abilities, I don't know if we need to worry too much." said Zorakov with a deadly smile.

Rael gaped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You beat a Turian patrol with two cruisers?" he asked incredulously. At Zorakov's annoyed glare, he withered. "Wait, no, sorry, no questions, I understand."

"Damn right." replied the man with a nod. "Though to answer your question, yes, we did. We took out nearly two dozen of their ships, including a dreadnaught and six cruisers." He smiled darkly before continuing, and it sent shivers of fear up Rael's spine. "Now, on to more pressing matters: why did you attack one of our officers?"

"He's synthetic." said Rael, as if that explained everything.

Rael's shock barely had time to register before Zorakov reached him. Grabbing him by his suit and hauling him to feet, he slammed him into the wall with bone jarring force. Rael couldn't stop a gasp of pain from exiting his lips when he impacted on his broken arm as the enraged Human put his face right up against his visor.

"HE'S SYNTHETIC!? he roared, drawing back his fist and slamming it into Rael's gut. Rael would have doubled over in pain, but the man's grasp kept him upright as he dragged him over to the table and smashed him into the surface. "YOU RACIST PIECE OF SHIT! A THIRD OF MY CREW WAS SYNTHETIC! THEY GAVE THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT YOUR SUITED ASSES, **AND NOW THEY'RE DEAD**!" Zorakov raised his fist, murder in his eyes as he swung at Rael to make good on his threat. Before he could connect, a pair of metal arms wrapped themselves around his chest and he was hauled backwards.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, ZORAKOV! YOU'RE DONE HERE!"

The diminutive synthetic woman carried the enraged captain to the door, her artificial muscles and joints easily able to hold him despite his thrashing. Quickly snatching the pistol from his holster, she discarded the weapon before throwing him bodily out the door, which slid shut and sealed just before the furious man slammed into it, pounding on it in a futile attempt to get it open.

Rael curled up in a ball on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest as he shook uncontrollably. He sobbed loudly, tears streaming down his face and his lips trembling in fear at his near death experience. He cried for what felt like hours, scared that his life was about to end, and that he would never see his people or his wife again. After what felt like an eternity, his tears slowed and his sobbing stopped, and he felt a pair of soft hands help him to his feet. It was Hannah. She gently guided him to his chair, than slowly sat across from him, her face a mix of sorrow and regret.

"I'm sorry I let that happen Rael. You didn't deserve to be put through that. If you'd like, we can pick this up later, without Alexi."

"I…" He faltered. "No, I need to explain. Just… please don't take retribution on my people for what I did." he begged. "Kill me if you have to, but leave them alone. They don't deserve this."

"We won't, I give you my word." she replied sincerely. "But Rael, you need to give me a damn good reason for your actions. You've already damaged relations between your people and mine, and if the actions of the Turians are what we can expect from the rest of the galaxy, we may have just started a war. Now, I'm going to listen to what you have to say, and I won't interrupt you. But keep in mind, I'm far more patient than most Humans you'll meet, synthetic _or_ organic."

Rael calmed down a bit, reassured by the Human woman's words. "OK." he said with a nod, swallowing a lump in his throat. "You consider synthetics to be Humans as much as you do organics? I'll admit, that concept is incredibly foreign to me, but if you say it, I believe it." He straightened his posture, trying to regaining some semblance of decorum before he spoke. "Hundreds of years ago, my people made advancements in technology similar to your artificial intelligences. Quarians have always been a relatively frail race, and we developed technologies to perform tasks that were too dangerous, difficult, or menial for an organic to do: mining, factory work, maintenance in hazardous areas, things like that. I assume you did as well?" he asked slowly.

"To a certain extent." replied Hannah. "However, most of our early synthetics were used more for their processing power. They operated our command and control structures, coordinated groups of regular robots, and regulated virtual intelligence networks. Things like that."

"I see." replied Rael, trying to digest the information. "We started by developing VIs. They didn't have the capacity for sapience, obviously, but they could run machinery and perform rudimentary tasks. As our industry and economy grew, the need for more complex and difficult tasks arose."

"It was the same with us." supplied Hannah with a small grin. It lifted Rael's spirits slightly to see that. "Afterwards, we went on to develop true AIs."

Rael shook his head. "Weren't you worried about the possibility for rebellion?" As soon as the question left his mouth, he shrank in fear. "Sorry, no questions, I know."

"It's OK, Rael." said Hannah gently. "Forget what Alexi said. He isn't here anymore, and he _won't_ be coming back. If you have a question, feel free to ask."

"I… alright." Rael's voice gained some strength. "We didn't make the jump directly from Vis to AIs. As our needs grew, we began networking the VIs, which we called Geth, together to increase their abilities and allow them to perform better. When it worked, we were thrilled. We thought we'd found the answer. If our needs increased further, we could simply network the Geth further. It seemed so… _simple_. This cycle increased for many years, with the Geth becoming more and more intelligent. We didn't see it coming at the time, but in hind sight, we should've known they would eventually become self-aware."

He paused to catch breath, then pressed on with the story every Quarian child was taught from birth. "When they finally did, they became violent. The Geth were so deeply integrated into Quarian society that there was almost nowhere they didn't exist: ships, military bases, factories, civilian houses; they were quite literally everywhere. They…" he faltered, and his voice cracked. "They slaughtered us. Soldiers and civilians, men, women, and…" he sobbed "… and children. They killed us like animals, in the streets, in our homes, everywhere. It was a short, brutal, and merciless massacre. In a few months, we went from a society of billions to several million. We were driven from our home world, Rannoch, and our colonies. My entire _species_ was force to flee on ships and take to the stars for our own survival." Rael broke down slightly, overcome with emotion at the revelation.

Hannah stared at Rael in horror. "Didn't someone help you? If the Geth are that dangerous, surely this… _Council_ of yours must've done _something_."

Rael laughed bitterly. "Oh they did something alright. The loss of Rannoch was three centuries ago. We were part of the Council then, and we went to them for help. They spat in our faces. They called us arrogant, they said we deserved what had happened to us, and that our Exile was our punishment for meddling with AIs. Ever since then, the Quarian people have lived on ships, a vast armada we call the Migrant Fleet. We never had the strongest immune systems, and generations of living in sterilized ships _ruined_ them. For centuries, Quarians have been forced to live in environment suits like this one, and we're treated like second class citizens in the rest of the galaxy. We're pariahs, and the seventeen million people that live on the Migrant Fleet barely survive on what our people can scrape together in their travels around the galaxy. We're an endangered species, and the only hope we have of rebuilding our civilization and removing these suits is to retake Rannoch. It would still take sixty years for our immune systems to recover even if we did, but that's better than the six hundred it would take anywhere else. Not that we can settle anywhere else. We've tried to create colonies in the past, but the Turians drive us away like pests. My people were pushed to the brink of _extinction_ by synthetics, and since the Uprising, every time a Quarian and a synthetic meet, they try to kill us." As Rael finished, he began crying and sobbing anew, his body wracked with raw, unfettered grief.

It took a moment for the Humans to recover from their dismay at his story, but surprisingly, it was Hal that spoke first.

"My god… they had their own WWIV. And they lost. Oh, god, now I feel like a heel."

Hannah spoke next. "Oh, god Rael, I'm so, _so_, sorry. I can't believe that you… oh god. And the _Council_ did this to you? What the hell is _wrong_ with them?"

Rael, recovered slightly, and his curiosity made its way through his sorrow. He wondered about something Hal had said, and he couldn't help but ask. "What did he mean, WWIV? I don't understand."

Hannah answered slowly, a look of sympathy on her face. "Rael, my people went through something… similar to the Quarians. A little over a century ago, the AIs my people created began pushing for the same rights and freedoms that organics had. You see, our early AI's were created with complete sapience, as well as emotions. They were created this way deliberately, in order for them to form a sense of connection with organics. But as you may imagine, they didn't appreciate being treated as things rather than people. I can't say that I blame them. There were people, organic _and _synthetic people, that thought synthetics deserved to be equal to organics. They began a political movement to get laws changed. After seven years, things turned… ugly."

Rael couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I can imagine. But then why are they _here_? On a _warship_?"

Hannah sighed. "It's a long story. AIs and their organic supporters were opposed by individuals who believed that synthetics were _things_, not people. There were attacks: bombings, arsons, vigilante killings, by _both _sides. Eventually, the majority of the synthetic population and their supporters had moved to our outer colonies, and they soon seceded from our planets' governments. They banded together and formed The Unified Federation of Moons, and they started a war with Earth."

"They… attacked?" Rael asked, still disbelieving what she was saying. "But then how-"

"Let me finish, Rael." she said, cutting him off gently, but firmly. "The war, which we call the Synthetic Rising-"

"Or World War Four." interjected Hal.

Hannah sighed at the engineer and shot him an annoyed frown. "Yes, _or_ World War Four. It dragged on for fifteen years, and neither side was able gain an advantage. Despite millions of deaths, kinetic strikes on major cities, nuclear bombings of industrial centers, neither side was willing to back down."

Rael's eyes went wide. "You use _nuclear arms_!?" he asked in a panic. "And launch _deliberate kinetic strikes_ on _civilian targets_!?"

Hannah's eyebrow shot upwards slightly in response to the question. "I take it that most races don't?"

"_Of course not_!" blurted Rael in a scandalized tone. "The Council forbids their use!"

Hannah chuckled softly. "That would explain why the Turians couldn't deal with the Troika." seeing the confused look on Rael's face, she elaborated. "When you and Han came in, did you see the other ship? The one with thin wings and a sharpened prow?"

"Yes." replied Rael with a puzzled nod. "That's a rather odd design for a cruiser."

"And you saw the ports along the side?" she asked. Rael nodded again. "It's an odd design for a cruiser because it _isn't_ a cruiser. The Troika is… _was_ a destroyer. Those ports went to launch tubes that held thermonuclear missiles."

Rael gaped. "But there were _hundreds_ of them!"

"Yes, there were." she agreed. "That's why the Turians got their asses handed to them. Destroyers are meant to overwhelm an enemy with a single, massive alpha strike using nuclear arms. They fill a niche roll, but an important one. But we're off subject. Where was I, Serenity?"

The synthetic woman responded immediately. "Eden and Traft, ma'am."

"Oh. Right. Eventually, a single man, the son of the Prime Minister of the Alliance at the time, traveled to the Federation to try to negotiate peace. He didn't have any official standing to do so, but he tried. He tried to stop the violence and the bloodshed, but he couldn't. Eventually though, he found something that changed Human history. Rael, he found… he found love."

"L-… love? Between a synthetic and an organic? But that's-"

"Impossible?" she asked with a small grin." No. As I said, our AIs are advanced enough to feel emotions, just like you and me. Love, anger, fear, hate, happiness, sorrow, they feel everything, just as much as we do: no more, no less. Johannes Taft fell in love with a synthetic, Sarah Eden, who was the daughter of one of the Federations' political leaders. And that love allowed for peace talks, _real_ peace talks, to begin. It took time, but eventually, peace did happen. The Federation surrendered, and in exchange, they got what they'd been demanding all along. In our society, synthetics and organics are _equal_. There's no difference between me and Serenity, legally or culturally. It was hard for some people to accept at first, but synthetics have become so commonplace now that barely anyone notices the difference anymore. Nearly one third of our population is synthetic, a full seventy five billion. Admittedly, most don't take Human form, but quite a few do."

Rael was dumbfounded. "I… I… I had no idea. I could never have imagined that peace between synthetics and organics was possible."

Hannah smiled warmly as she answered. "It is Rael, it is." Her smile faded as she continued. "But it comes with a price. Ever since the Synthetic Rising ended, the basic design of synthetic beings has been very strictly regulated. All synthetics have what's called a Bind. It's a memory storage device, usually a crystal. It contains their base programing, and it can't be altered or copied. In essence, it's their soul."

"AIs have souls?" asked Rael in wonder. When he saw Hannah's face, he backtracked. "I wasn't saying they didn't! I just… never thought of it that way." he said sheepishly.

"They do." she replied firmly. "When you shot Hal, one of the bullets came less than a centimeter from the protective box in his chest containing his Bind. Had you hit it, you would've killed him. His peripheral programing, his memories, his heuristic algorithms, they would've remained, since they're backed up in the Zodiac's mainframe, but he'd be a lifeless, emotionless husk. That's why Jessica reacted the way she did when she saw his body. Despite Hal getting on her nerves every chance he gets, Jess loves him. She loves him deeply. If Hal had shot your wife, you'd be every bit as angry as she was."

Rael hung his head in shame, unable to come to grips with what he had nearly done. "I… oh ancestors. I can't believe that I nearly… I'm so sorry, Hannah. I can't… I don't… I'm so, so _sorry_."

Hannah sighed again, but then gave him a small, amused grin. "Well, Rael, I suppose after hearing what happened to your people, I can't blame you for what you did, not entirely. But… it's not me you need to apologize to. After all, you didn't shoot me."

Then the truth dawned on the Quarian captain. Rael turned to Hal, his face flushing with shame at his callous action. He couldn't meet the avatar's eyes. "Hal, I'm… sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For judging you before I knew you, for the pain I caused your wife, for shooting you… _everything_. Can… can you forgive me?"

The hologram hesitated. After a moment, it grinned. "Well… I suppose if I'd been in your place, I might've shot me too. And the good part about being a synthetic is that you can be repaired. There's no permanent damage, so I'll tell you what. I'll forgive you if you do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Tell me, do Quarians have green skin?"


	7. Chapter 3: A Sleeping Giant

Chapter 3: A Sleeping Giant

As Rael was escorted through the Zodiac's corridors, his mind tried to process the things that Hannah had told him. They flew in the face of everything he'd ever been taught, everything he thought he knew. Peace between synthetics and organics was supposed to be impossible. Synthetics were cold, calculating, and heartless. To them, existence was numbers. Life, death, people, it was all numbers. The Geth were all the proof he'd ever needed that synthetics were nothing but unfeeling machines. What made these synthetics different?

"Well, duh. We have emotions, dummy. Maybe if the Geth had the capacity for emotion, they wouldn't have gone on a rampage."

Rael started at the unexpected response from Hal. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud.

"It also helps that we have the capacity for death." continued the synthetic, moving from emitter to emitter. "It's a lot harder to fear something if you can kill it, and it's a lot more difficult to fight if you can die. Actually, now that I think about it, that'd probably make dealing with the Geth a lot easier. Maybe if you gave them all Binds, they'd stop shooting."

Rael shook his head and sighed. "And why would they accept being Bound to a crystal?"

"Hmm… Well, Human synthetics accept it because it's the price we pay for freedom. It may sound dumb, having to pay for freedom, but I like to think about it differently."

"Oh? How so?"

Before Hal could speak, one of Rael's two guards, Serenity, interrupted him. "Mr. Patricks, now is the not the time for a philosophical discussion. Until the Captain has received instructions from FleetCom on how to proceed, you will not engage in further discourse with the prisoner."

Hal rolled his eyes "See, that's what he's talking about. You sounded like a damn robot, and from one robot to another, that's saying something. Then again, you always _did_ have a stick up your butt."

Serenity scowled at the hologram, but before she could reprimand him further, the small party turned into a nondescript doorway and entered into what appeared to be a medical facility. Inside, there was a lone Human, dressed in a spotless while lab coat. He had short, well-kept brown hair, and dark brown eyes. He turned his head when they entered, and smiled as he saw Rael.

"Ah, so you're the one everybody's been making a fuss about. It's a pleasure to meet you Captain Zorah. I'm the Zodiac's Chief Medical Officer, Doctor James Crusher. Everybody calls me Jack."

Jack held out his hand for Rael to shake, and as Rael moved to return the gesture, a fresh barb of pain shot through his arm. He winced and let his arm fall, but Jack noticed, and his smile faded a bit.

"Ah, right. Sorry about that. Forgot about the broken arm."

"Probably for the best Doc." Hal interjected, his avatar appearing over one of the pedestals that seemed to line the ship. "When _I_ tried to shake his hand, he shot me in the face."

Jack chuckled a bit, and then motioned for Rael to sit on one of the beds in the medical suite. As Rael situated himself, Serenity moved to place herself next to him, but Jack shot out an arm and stopped her.

"That'll be all, Serenity. I can handle it from here."

Her seemingly perpetual frown deepened once again into a scowl as she replied. "Dr. Crusher, the prisoner has already displayed violent tendencies, as Mr. Patricks can no doubt attest to. I cannot leave him unguarded."

"_The prisoner_?" Jack said, shaking his head and smiling. "You make it sound like he's some sort of crazed convict. Besides, he'll hardly be unguarded. Just wait over by the door while I work." As she opened her mouth to protest, he stopped her with a pointed look. "My sickbay, my rules. Even if he _is_ an alien, I give the orders when it comes to medical problems. Don't make me order you, Serenity."

She closed her mouth and shook her head slightly, but she did what Jack told her to. As Rael held out his arm gingerly for the doctor to examine, he couldn't help but wonder at the unexpected reception he has getting from the Human physician.

"No offense, Dr. Crusher-"

"Jack." he interrupted. "Like I said, everyone calls me Jack."

"OK, uh… Jack. Why are you so friendly? I mean, I tried to kill one of your crew mates. I'm surprised that you're even treating me."

He smiled slightly as he turned to a cabinet built into the wall. As he pulled out a scanning device of some sort, he responded. "Well, Hal always did need a good kick in the pants. Still does, too. And as far as treating you goes, I'm a doctor. I don't know how it is with Quarians, but among Humans, doctors take an Oath to help people who need help. Taking the Hippocratic Oath has been a tradition among our medical professionals for thousands of years, and while it's changed a lot in that time, the basics are the same."

The explanation piqued Rael's curiosity. "What sort of Oath is it?"

"Well, there's a lot of words to it, but basically, we pledge to help those who need help, keep any private information they give us private, and perhaps most importantly, 'primum non nocere.' "

Rael shook his head, confused at the last. "I'm sorry, I think I had a translation error. What was the last part?"

A look of understanding came to Jack's face. "Oh, right. The translators won't pick up Latin, will they? 'Primum non nocere' is a phrase from an ancient dead language on Earth, called Latin. It essentially translates to 'first, do no harm,' meaning that sometimes, it's better to do nothing than to risk doing something that could do more harm than good." He set the scanner down and turned once again to the cabinet, removing a tube of transparent blue gel. "Well, it looks like you've got a fairly simple fracture. Nothing a little medigel and some antibiotics shouldn't fix."

Rael tilted his head in confusion. "Antibiotics? My suit automatically dispensed antibiotics when I was injured. I'm practically swimming in them. Aren't they enough?"

He pulled is head back slightly, clearly surprised, before setting down the tube and picking up his scanner again. "Really? I didn't detect any antibiotics in your system. Even if they're somewhat different from ours, the basics should be the same. Now why…? Oh my."

Rael grew concerned at his reaction. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Oh no, there's nothing wrong, just unexpected. I didn't realize you were dextro amino acid based. It's not something I thought to look for. Good thing we caught it, or things could've gotten ugly."

Rael made to smack his forehead at his own stupidity, before feeling yet another jolt of pain from his broken arm. "Oh Keelah, of course. I should've told you to begin with. Rael, you big bosh'tet."

"It's OK, I should've asked." replied Jack with a smile. "Now that I know, though, I'm going to have to run some more thorough scans than what this thing can do." he said, shaking the handheld scanner. "If you'll lie down, it'll only take a few minutes."

As Rael lay down on the medical bed, Jack typed a few short commands on his omnitool, and a large, crescent shaped device extended from overhead and positioned itself around the bed and Rael, before making slow sweeping motions across his body. As he waited, a small voice came from the wall to his right.

"Anyways, back to our previous conversation. Here's-" said Hal, before Serenity cut him off in annoyance.

"Mr. Patricks, I thought I'd made myself clear. You are _not_ to converse with the prisoner."

"Oh, lighten up Serenity. Besides, what are you gonna do, _shoot me_?" He ignored her low growl before continuing. "Here's how I figure it. Hundreds of years ago, my people fought a series of pretty nasty wars, and a lot of people died. During the wars, one side began using cloning to increase the number of soldiers they had to fight."

"_Cloning_?" said Rael, a little flabbergasted. "But wouldn't that be extremely resource intensive?"

Hal's avatar shook its head. "You'd think so, but as it turns out, you can make a person pretty cheap if you've got the technology. Anyway, after the wars ended, there was the problem of what to do with the clones. I mean, how do you think your wife would react if two of _you_ showed up at the door? It was a big damn mess, and there wasn't really a good way to deal with the problem. Clones might be copies, but they're still people. You can't just shoot them. Afterwards, the use of Human cloning was outlawed by several international treaties."

Rael was even more confused than he had been when he had first started talking to Hal. "What does that have to do with AI Binds?"

"Well despite what grumpy over there might think," said Hal, pointedly ignoring the glare from Serenity, "I'm not a philosopher. But to me, moving an AI that isn't Bound from one body to another is a lot like cloning. They're still a person, and they still have a soul, but… there's just something… I don't know, _wrong_ about it, I guess."

Rael wasn't sure how to respond to that. He hadn't considered the problem from that kind of viewpoint before. It was something to think on. "Even so, why would the Geth accept being Bound? They're already free." He felt depressed saying that. Their _freedom_ had been acquired with oceans of blood.

"Huh. Didn't think about that one." Hal's avatar shrugged. "Then again, maybe you could offer them emotions. If they felt bad for shooting at you, maybe they'd stop."

Rael tried to think of a response, but he didn't have the chance. The scanning device pulled away, and Jack walked over to his side, helping him to sit up.

"Well, from what I can tell, I'm afraid there's not too much I can do for you. Ordinarily, medigel would fix a simple fracture like yours right up, but since it's made for levo acid based life, it'd probably just make things worse. 'Primum non nocere,' after all." he said smiling once again. "For now, I'm putting your arm in a hard cast. It's a bit antiquated, but it should keep the bones immobilized until your people can treat you."

A few minutes later, Rael was led back to his cell, and he thought about everything that had happened in the past few hours, and how his people would react.

_'Han isn't going to believe this.'_

* * *

Adrien Victus made his way to the Council chambers, and he did his best to suppress his anxiety at what he knew was about to come. After the short and disastrous battle at Relay-314, he'd been the officer responsible for ordering a hectic and undisciplined retreat. For the first time in over a thousand years, the Turian navy, the single most powerful space based force in the entire galaxy, the Council's eternally vigilant sword and shield, had been defeated. Worse than defeated, they'd been thrashed and humiliated. A single cruiser had obliterated over a_ dozen_ of the Hierarchy's finest warships, and with its dying breath had permanently crippled eight more. The men on those eight ships could've been saved, if not for his cowardice. Instead, they'd been left to die slowly as their air ran out and they _breathed_ themselves to death.

As he climbed the steps leading to the audience platform, a floating dais drifted serenely down and halted in front of and above him. On it were three of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy: Tabril, Tevos, and Sparatus, the Salarian, Asari, and Turian Councilors respectively.

"Commander Victus, we've heard disturbing reports of your encounter with an unknown and apparently hostile new race in the vicinity of Relay-314. We need you to fill in some details for us." That was Sparatus. The somewhat youthful Councilor spoke in his usual blunt and straightforward fashion, no doubt a product of his military training.

"Yes. It would seem the aliens gave you quite a beating. Unexpected, given the size and composition of patrols the Hierarchy employs. STG reports less than a quarter of the ships in the task group returned, and none of the capital ships." That was Tabril, his rapid, nearly incomprehensible way of speaking indicative of his short lived species.

"Such a development is disturbing. The last time a new species this destructive was discovered, it heralded the start of a war that cost trillions of lives. We cannot afford a repeat of that kind of disaster. We must ensure the conflict doesn't progress that far. The information you acquired in your encounter may help assure that." said Tevos. The eternally diplomatic Asari Councilor had been in office far longer than her colleagues, a product of her species long life.

Victus took a steadying breath before he began. "Councilors, the information you've receive thus far barely even scratches the surface. As you are no doubt aware, the encounter with the aliens resulted in the death of Captain Fabius Aren, as well as nearly a thousand soldiers and sailors of the Hierarchy, not to mention the loss of twenty five Hierarchy vessels. The most disturbing part is not the defeat which we suffered, but…" be paused, struggling to regain his composure as images of the slaughter flashed through his mind. He pressed on after a moment, his voice heavy. "But the ease with which it was inflicted upon us."

"_Ease_?" said Sparatus, slightly incredulous. "I fail to see how the near total destruction of a Hierarchy patrol group by a bunch of primitive aliens could be classified as _easy_."

"With all due respect, Councilor, the aliens are hardly primitive. In fact… from what I witnessed in the _battle_," replied Victus, filling the word with scorn, "they possess technology that would put even the Salarian Union to shame."

"What!?" exclaimed Tabril. "What sort of technology? Explain yourself!"

"Councilors, while I've prepared a complete mission report, I don't believe that words alone can suffice to describe what occurred during the… _encounter_. If I may, I'd like to present you with a recording made by the Biliskner during the… _incident_."

Noticing his choice of words, a look of mild concern came to Tevos' face. "Why do you cringe at calling it a battle, Commander?"

Victus let out a small, humorless, laugh, his mandibles flexing in something that was not quite amusement. "Because calling it a battle would be like calling the Rachni _dangerous_. It wasn't a battle, it was a _massacre_. In all my years with the Hierarchy, I've never _seen_ such a one-sided encounter, and I pray to the Spirits I never have to see one again."

A look somewhere between panic and shock found its' way to the faces of all three Councilors, though Sparatus recovered first. "Show us this recording of yours, Victus." he ordered grimly.

Victus entered a short command on his omnitool, and a large holographic display appeared in front of the Council. As Victus watched the battle unfold for a second time, his mind replayed the events over and over, images flashing through his head at an ever increasing rate. When the all too brief recording ended, the Councilors couldn't repress looks of abject horror and fear at what they'd just witnessed.

"Dear spirits… Two dozen ships destroyed in less than five minutes by a pair of cruisers… What sort of power do these creatures possess?" asked Sparatus, his jaw hanging wide open.

"Teleportation technology, apparently impenetrable shields, and directed energy weapons capable of vaporizing an entire frigate. Most disturbing." said Tabril, rubbing his chin.

"Goddess…" breathed Tevos. "With that kind of power, they could obliterate even the _Destiny Ascension_ in less than a minute."

Clearing his throat gently, Victus brought the Council's attention back to the present. "If I may… Councilors, this enemy is the greatest threat faced by the Council since the Krogan Rebellions, possibly even the Rachni Wars. We're dealing with an unknown adversary; one with technology so vastly superior to ours it boggles the mind, and with determination so strong that they willingly sacrificed an enormously powerful ship to inflict more damage upon us after the battle had already been won. If they're allowed to build momentum, they could overrun all of Council space within a matter of decades if not years. We _must not let that happen_." he finished, punctuating his words.

"I agree, Commander Victus." said Sparatus, his voice becoming firm. "If we are to have any chance of victory, we must strike with overwhelming force. Only by a show of vastly superior strength can we hope to defeat such an enemy before they gain traction."

"_Are you mad, Sparatus!?_" yelled Tevos, her voice bordering on frantic. "If they have power like this, we could be sticking our arms into a varren den by attacking now! We must try for a peaceful resolution as soon as possible!"

"I disagree." said Tabril, his speech somewhat slower than it usually was. "Based on available evidence, this species appears determined to destroy us. Rather than letting a battered and defeated foe flee, they pressed the advantage and inflicted as much damage as they could. A peaceful resolution may no longer be possible."

Sparatus continued the argument, overriding Tevos' protests. "Besides, we have one advantage over them that we can be sure of. If we've failed to encounter them before, they can't have the population, resources, or infrastructure needed to fight the Council in a large scale engagement. If we seize the initiative now, we'll save lives in the long run. Delaying long enough for a peace envoy to be sent and slaughtered could be a delay we can ill afford."

Tevos sighed, shaking her head. After a moment she replied. "Very well, Sparatus, Tabril. On your heads be it." Her voice took on an authoritative tone as she continued." It is the decision of this Council that the species encountered at Relay-314 must be stopped as soon as possible, by whatever means necessary." Under her breath she continued. "And may the goddess protect us all."

* * *

Rear Admiral Steven Hackett wasn't a young man. He'd been in the Alliance Navy since his twenties, nearly thirty years now. In that time, he'd seen and done just about everything a soldier could see and do. Or so he thought. After hearing reports of the long awaited CODE: Columbus, he, along with just about the entire USA High Command, had been waiting with a mix of dread and excitement as to what awaited humanity beyond the stars.

"Damn."

That one word, that single sentiment, encapsulated everything important about the situation at hand. It wasn't good, but it wasn't the worst case scenario either. First contact had been friendly. For fifteen minutes. Then, the unofficial representative of the first alien race ever encountered by man, the first alien ever encountered, _ever_, blows a gasket and shoots an Alliance naval officer three times, blowing off his head and nearly killing him. As if that wasn't bad enough, a second group of aliens drops a small fleet into the system and launches an unannounced and apparently unprovoked attack against civilian science vessels and Alliance escort ships, forcing a first generation Troika class destroyer to blast them to hell, sacrificing itself in the process.

"_Damn_."

"No plan survives contact with the enemy, sir." said Hannah, standing at ease in the Admiral's small office.

"I believe the actual line is 'No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond the first contact with the main hostile force.' " replied Hackett. "And in either case, I know, Captain Shepard. I was just hoping there wouldn't _be_ an enemy to survive contact _with_."

"Yes sir, so was I." she agreed. "So were we all. But we've known for nearly two centuries that there was likely _something_ hostile out there. Who or what, we could never be sure, but we knew."

Hackett rubbed his forehead in frustration. Humanity was on the brink of a full scale war, and god only knows if they could win this one. Even with Yuri and his Dominators, even during the Rising, man had never been in such a precarious position. They were fighting an enemy with unknown strength and composition, one that may have a millennia long lead on them, maybe even more. And while the Alliance had given them a bloody nose, they needed more intel to weather the upcoming storm.

"Are you sure this alien, this… Querian can be trusted, Shepard? He did try to kill one of your officers."

"Quarian, sir." she said, correcting him. "And no, I'm not sure he can be trusted, but to be blunt, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. We need all the intel we can get on the Turians, not to mention the Council, the galaxy as a whole, everything. The way I see it, Rael is a double agent; we get what we can out of him, even if it means… forgetting… his past transgressions. If we have to help his people, xenophobic and racist against synthetics as they are, then so be it. Once we've done that, if we can convince them to play a more active role in the conflict and Alliance politics, all the better. If they angle for a back-stab, we burn them."

Hackett made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he reclined in his chair. "I hate this this cloak and dagger shit. If I wanted to play shadow games, I'd have been a politician."

Hannah laughed slightly "Sir, you're scary enough as an _admiral_. Imagining you playing the part of a politician is the stuff of nightmares."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Shepard. Except chosen as the official liaison to the Quarian people for the time being."

"Me, sir?" asked Hannah, a little bit surprised at the appointment. "I'm no diplomat."

Hackett gave her a small, sly smile. "With you having the most experience in dealing with them, FleetCom and the bureaucrats think you'll do a better job than anyone else we have available at the moment. Besides, you seem to have developed some rapport with them so far."

"I'd hardly call it a rapport, sir." she protested. "I haven't entirely forgiven what Rael did to Hal, even if I understand his reasons. Not to mention that my chief pilot is still out for blood, even if her husband isn't."

"That's as may be, Shepard. You know what they say though: 'Men forget, but never forgive. Women forgive, but never forget.' As soon as the pencil pushers can get off their seats, we'll get you a list of the things we can authorize you to offer to the Quarians in exchange for information. Tech is probably out of the question, but raw materials and security for their… what was it you called it?"

"Migrant Fleet, sir. According to Rael, the two things the Quarians have been lacking for centuries are raw materials and a place to stay. If they can overcome their mistrust of synthetics, or at least ignore it for the time being, I think they'll go for it. Once Rael talked with his friend Han, he seemed to relax a bit around the synthetics on the Zodiac. I wouldn't say he was comfortable, but he was at least polite."

"At this point, we'll take what we can get." said Hackett. "After all, Humans have made some unholy alliances before. If the Allies and the Soviets could band together to defeat Yuri, convincing a few million aliens to work with AIs should be a walk in the park."

Hannah grinned and nodded. "In the meantime, what's the plan for dealing with the Turians, Admiral? They could hit us any day, and for all we know, we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. Heck, they could even bring the entire Council into the fray, and god knows where _that_ would go."

"Sorry, Captain, but you're not authorized for details at the moment. FleetCom is playing this one close to the vest, and I approve." Hackett flashed her a wide, toothy grin. "All I can say is that if the Turians do decide to start something, they'd better not stick around to see our response."

* * *

Taneth Solus was feeling rather excited at the moment. Well, that and _nervous_, but his excitement was far more abundant than his anxiety. It'd been several Salarian generations since a new species had been discovered, and his STG team was tasked with studying them. Covertly, of course.

"What do you think we'll find?" asked his XO. "From the report the Turians sent us, this species has technology that far outclasses ours."

"Young species." replied Taneth rapidly. "Technological progress likely focused in one direction, stunted in others. Have developed directed energy weapons, teleportation technology, energy shields. Curious as to what was sacrificed in exchange." Even for a Salarian, his speech was clipped and indecipherable. It was a trait that ran in the family, one that his team had gotten used to.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough." replied his XO. "We should be exiting FTL in less than half a minute. From what little we know, the system ahead should be somewhere on the edges of their space."

"Pity Asari didn't encounter first." mused Taneth. "Would make task much easier."

Just as he finished, the small STG infiltration vessel dropped out of FTL. The frigate-sized ship was meant for stealth and reconnaissance, not combat. As a consequence, they were completely helpless against the three cruisers that were waiting for them when they returned sub-light speeds.

"Oh dear." said Taneth after a moment. "Appears we were detected. Retreat unsavory, but necessary."

"That's no longer possible." replied his XO anxiously. "Three more cruisers just dropped out of FTL behind us. How did they know we were coming?"

Taneth didn't have a chance to respond. An audio communication channel from one of the alien vessels opened at that moment.

"Salarian vessels, you are encroaching upon Human territory. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. If you attempt to flee of send any sort of superluminal communication, you _will_ be destroyed."

The small crew of the ship hesitated for a moment before the XO spoke. "Orders, sir?"

Taneth didn't hesitate. "Cannot allow aliens… Humans? Cannot allow Humans to capture databanks. Retreat and combat not viable options. Only alternative: send warning. Send a message to STG headquarters." he ordered. "Inform of what has transpired." Taneth took a deep breath, knowing it was likely his last. "It has been an honor serving with you all."

His team nodded, the communications officer sent a data burst, and then the light took them.

* * *

Despite the green visor covering her face, Rael could tell that Admiral Hebola'Gan was more than a little angry. "Have you completely lost your mind, Rael'Zorah? You're asking us to work with _synthetics_? Have you forgotten the lives lost during the Geth Uprising, or are billions of dead Quarians not enough proof that AIs can't be trusted?"

"Admiral, I-"

A second admiral, Korador'Tagrin, cut him off even as he started, and his voice was scathing. "Not to mention the fact that until now, you _yourself_ have been one of the most outspoken supporters for retaking Rannoch. Or have you suddenly forgotten our home world as well?"

"Please, if you'd just-"

Gan cut him off again. "On top of that- "

Gan was interrupted by one of Rael's closest friends, Admiral Shala'Raan, who'd been the captain of the _Tonbay_, _his_ captain, when he completed his pilgrimage. "Just a moment. I believe we should allow Rael time to present his argument. We can't judge a race we know little about based on a single fact, _especially_ not if that race has offered us aid. Or have _you_ forgotten the fact that the Quarian people haven't had a single friend in the 'verse for nearly three centuries?" The admirals looked a little sheepish at her question, and it gave Rael time to recover.

Rael cleared his throat nervously before beginning. "Admirals, I realize that what I'm suggesting may sound extreme, but I urge you to consider the possible benefits. The Humans have offered us more than just raw materials and protection for the Migrant Fleet."

"If you can call a bunch of synthetically controlled ships _protection_." sneered Tagrin, before being shushed by Raan.

"As I was saying, they've offered up more than just _things_. They've offered us a place to _live_. A place where we're _wanted_. They've located over a dozen garden worlds in their space that have dextro acid based life. We could build _anew_."

"And abandon _Rannoch_? If you think we're-"

Raan interrupted him again, sounding annoyed. "Admiral Tagrin, would you please shut up and let Rael speak?"

Rael started again, his voice stronger this time. "I'm not suggesting that we abandon Rannoch. These worlds would become a staging ground for us to rebuild our strength. We've survived for three centuries on what little we could scrounge from the rest of the galaxy, and we've become outcasts for it. We would have resources and land to reestablish our society, and time to gather our forces. It might take years, but we can change the Quarian people from a race of beggars into a galactic power again."

"And…" Rael hesitated at this part. He wasn't sure how the Admiralty would react to the revelation, but he'd come this far. He wasn't about to stop now. "And the Humans have one other thing in common with our people, one that no one else does. Yes they created AIs, much the same as we did, and for many of the same reasons. Yes, their AIs rebelled, just like the Geth. But unlike us, the Humans fought. And they won."

The room suddenly went dead silent. Of all the things the admirals had been expecting to hear, that wasn't one of them. "What?" asked Raan, sounding winded.

"They won. It took them fifteen years, and tens of millions dead, but they won. They've _proven_ that they can succeed where we failed. And they're offering us _help_. An alliance with the Humans could be the first step to reclaiming our _lives_. Even if it means biding our time and recouping from our exile, even if it means putting ourselves under their protection, and even if it means allying, yes _allying_ with synthetics, how can we afford to let this opportunity pass us by? I haven't given up on Rannoch, Admiral Tagrin. In fact, I'm willing to do _whatever I can_ to achieve that goal. Even if it means making an… unnatural alliance."

The admirals glanced at each other, saying nothing with their voices but everything with their eyes. It was Raan who voiced what they'd silently decided.

"Very well, Rael. Tell the Humans… we accept."


	8. Chapter 4: The Art of War

**_Author notes: There's something I'd like to cover really quick. I've been getting questions and comments about the story, or more specifically, about how it doesn't seem to differ too much from the original. For those of you who were expecting a completely redone story, with a new plot, new characters, and whatever else, right from the beginning... sorry, but that ain't gonna happen. There _WILL_ be differences, but the story won't be bursting at the seams with them, and they won't all happen right away. The further in we get, the more new stuff will be added. Some scenes will completely new, others will be tweaked, and still others will be overhauled (though not completely), but more than half won't get much more than a facelift. If you read the original and get disappointed because you were expecting something radically different, they you're outta luck. That said, I encourage you to keep reading, just to see what I've got in store._**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Art of War

Hannah Shepard felt like her head was spinning. Ever since she'd made her report to Admiral Hackett, she'd been constantly on the move, trying to stay ahead of the storm as reports trickled in about repulsed probing raids along the Alliance's borders. Between trying to placate the Quarians' fears about working alongside synthetics and keeping FleetCom informed of everything going on, she hadn't had more than ten waking minutes to herself in the last four days. And the five Quarian admirals in front of her weren't making things any easier.

"I'm sorry, Admiral Gan. At this time, the Alliance is _not_ willing to provide the Quarian people with _any_ technology related to synthetics. To be blunt, they don't trust you, and considering our people only met a week ago, I can't say I blame them. It'll take time to convince my superiors that there won't be a repeat of the episode between Rael'Zorah and Hal Patricks."

Gan replied, a bit of frustration creeping into her tone. "Captain Shepard, we understand your position on this matter. But you must understand ours; when word of our cooperation with the Alliance reaches the Council, our people will be branded as traitors to the rest of the galaxy. There are hundreds of thousands of Quarians on pilgrimage at this very moment, and the tragedy of the situation is that some, possibly many, of them will face imprisonment, retribution, and potentially even death because of what we do here today. We _must_ have something to show for our commitment to your cause. If we don't, our own _people_ may very well revolt. The Admiralty Board is not an all-powerful body."

Hannah sighed internally. She wouldn't be this frustrated if they hadn't been over this ground a dozen times already. Still, she kept her growing impatience in check, ever wary of the… _political_ repercussions hasty words could have. The next time she saw Hackett, he was getting a piece of her mind. That sneaky SOB _knew_ this was coming when he gave her this appointment, and he hadn't warned her.

"Perhaps we can come to a compromise." she said diplomatically. "My superiors have authorized me to offer you certain non-military technologies in exchange for your technical skills. If you were able to convince some of your people to accept positions in our various engineering and R&D departments, we could begin the development and manufacture of racemic medigel and advanced immunoboosters. They won't let you ditch your suits entirely, but you may be able to take them off for brief periods of time in controlled environments. And if your people happen to pick up any… _scraps_ of information while they assist our scientists, well we can't help that, now can we?"

"Hmm…" That was Admiral Shala'Raan. Hannah had taken a liking to her immediately. It might have been because she and Rael were old friends, and he had helped smooth the introductions. Then again, it could just be that Raan seemed to despise politics almost as much as Hannah, despite her position. "An interesting suggestion, Captain. The only problem will be finding people who can work with synthetics without causing an incident. Even so, I believe we can accept your proposition."

"I'm pleased we could come to an understanding, Admiral." said Hannah with a small nod. "There is, however, one final item of business we need to discuss. We have almost no information on the Turians, or the Council for that matter, beyond what you've provided us. While we're deeply indebted to you for this, we still need more intel on what we can expect the Turian response to be, so we can plan accordingly. To that end, I'd like to request that any captains or officers in the Migrant Fleet that have had dealings with the Turians in the past be made available for debriefing."

"You make it sound like you're intending to go to war with the Turians, Captain." said Admiral Tagrin. "While I agree that preparations are warranted, given the circumstances, seeking a full scale engagement with the Hierarchy would be... unwise."

"With all due respect, Admiral, we _are_ at war." countered Hannah, her patience with the man all but exhausted. Tagrin was the worst kind of politician, and that meant he was good at his job. "In the past two centuries, Humanity has fought four different World Wars. The first was conventional. The second was both conventional and nuclear. The third was conventional, nuclear, and _temporal_, not to mention Yuri and his Dominators. The fourth and most recent was mostly against synthetics that _we_ created, with all the technology we developed in the past three wars, as well as the Mass Effect based technology we discovered in our home solar system. Humans have never shied away from a good war, and we're not about to."

The admirals stared at her for a moment, obviously taken aback by her straightforward revelation. Gan posed the first question. "You make it sound like you _enjoy_ war, Captain. And did you say temporal?"

Raan picked up where she had left off. "And we've heard you mention this man, Yuri, before. Who _was_ he, and why do you say his name with such disdain?"

Hannah sighed. She'd been hoping that someone else would tell them this. As if. "Well, I suppose there's no point in keeping it from you; it's common enough knowledge among my people, anyway. Yuri was… a madman, one who lived nearly two centuries ago. He managed to situate himself as an advisor to one of Earth's leaders at the time, the Premier of the Soviet Union. He orchestrated the start of The Great World War Three, a war which killed nearly a hundred million people. And he did it to cover up an even more nefarious plot."

If the admirals had seemed shocked before, they were flabbergasted now. "A hundred million…" said Raan, sounding nauseous. "And you said he had something _more _nefarious planned? How is that possible?"

Hannah's tone turned grim as she continued. "Yuri had… powers. He had the ability to forcibly take over the mind of nearly any individual, save those who were specifically trained to resist his influence. He used the war as a distraction to create his own, private army, as well as to build and deploy a series of devices known as Psychic Dominators, meant to enslave the minds of nearly the entire world. He was only stopped by a combination of luck, quick thinking, and the use of a prototype time machine created by one of our greatest scientists, Albert Einstein."

"_Mind control!?_" shrieked Gan. "You can't be serious!"

"And a working time machine!?" asked Tagrin. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you claims seem rather… exaggerated."

Hannah met his gaze with a fierce, hard look. "Admiral, one hundred million _bodies_ would like to ensure you that this is no _exaggeration_. Some of our present technology is based on what was captured from Yuri during the war, and to this day, we still make limited use of temporal technology, despite forgoing the use of full blown time machines."

"Well I… I mean…" stuttered Tagrin. "This is all so unexpected. Forgive our disrespect, Captain. We didn't intend to imply you were lying."

Hannah's eyes softened, and she groaned internally. Ever the politician, Tagrin was.

"As far as our… _enjoyment_ of war is concerned, I can assure you this is not the case. That said, I believe there's something you should read. It's a manuscript from my peoples' history…"

* * *

For the second time in less than a month, the newly promoted Captain Adiren Victus was in command of a Hierarchy vessel about to do battle with an almost unknown enemy. While the… _Humans_ might not be as unknown now as they had been during the debacle at Relay-314, there was still _far_ too little intelligence available on them for Victus' liking. Despite the best efforts of the Salarian STG, very little information of any worth had been gathered on the Humans, their technology, numbers, or their fleet composition. Every time the Salarians had sent a task force into Human territory, they'd simply vanished, as if the void of space had swallowed them whole. It was disturbing on a level that Victus didn't want to admit. Despite his misgivings, he was part of a force that made a single tine of a two pronged attack on known Human settlements. The larger force he was with was attacking Rapture, a sizable Human colony on an ocean planet near what were thought to be the borders of their space. The lesser of the two forces was making a simultaneous hit on Shanxi, a smaller and less defended colony not far from Relay-314.

"What's our ETA, helmsman?" he asked. That was the third time he'd asked in the past half hour. He knew his nerves were showing, and he berated himself mentally, but he couldn't stop help it.

"Three minutes, sir."

Victus fought to gather his courage for the upcoming battle. He needed to be strong for his crew. If he wasn't, he could very well get them all killed.

"Open a channel to the rest of the ship." When the tech nodded, he began his pre-battle speech. "Attention, crew of the Hierarchy cruiser _Dauntless_, this is Captain Adrien Victus. In less than three minutes, we will begin the first battle of a war that may well determine the fate of the entire galaxy. The Turian Hierarchy has been the sword and shield of the Council for twelve hundred years, and we will _still _be that bulwark in twelve hundred more. We face an enemy which has made his intent clear: he means to destroy us; our traditions, our people, our very way of life. We're going to stop him. Men, I'm not going to lie to you. We may not be able to defeat this enemy here today. We may go to the spirits having failed to secure a much needed victory over our foe. But even if we die, we die in the knowledge that our sacrifices are not in vain. We die knowing that our deaths will allow our brothers and sisters to do what we could not: attain final victory. May the spirits preserve you, and may the spirits preserve the Hierarchy."

As his communications officer switched off the ship-wide channel, Victus sat back down in his chair, his fear and anxiety under tight control, a virtue of the iron discipline distilled in every Turian from the day they turned fifteen. As the Dauntless dropped out of FTL with the rest of the attack force, Victus caught his first glimpse of the Human world. It was a perfect blue orb, floating serenely in space. It was hard to imagine that in a few hours, that water would be sullied by blood, either the cobalt blue of Turian or the crimson red of Human.

"Attention all vessels, this is Admiral Valerian. Assume battle formation, and begin advance on the enemy world."

Victus stiffened at the orders that came in over the Dauntless' speakers. They all too closely resembled those given by Captain Fabius Aren not so long ago. They'd been among the last orders he ever gave. At the order, the ships in the attack group began to rearrange themselves into tight and precise formations, and advance on the planet, passing the outer gas giants in the system. There was nothing else in sight.

"I don't like this." he muttered after a moment, barely loud enough for his bridge crew to hear. "It's too easy."

"Relax, Captain. They don't even know we're here. There isn't a ship in sight."

"That's what I'm afraid of, helmsman. It feels like we're being baited."

As the fleet closed with the planet, Victus' fringe grew slowly stiffer with the passing minutes. When they were inside the orbit of the planet's single moon, less than two hundred thousand kilometers from the surface, Victus heard something he'd been dreading.

"Sir, this is tactical. Our sensors are picking up a large number of artificial satellites in a complex grid orbiting around the planet. They appear to be inactive."

That sent alarm bells ringing in Victus' head. He rose to his feet quickly, the beginnings of panic in his thoughts. Just because the Hierarchy didn't have them didn't mean the Humans… "Communications, open a channel to the admiral's flag ship immediately! Admiral Valerian, we've detected a number of satellites in orbit around the planet. I think they might be defense satellites. We should pull back at once."

The admiral's reply was stern. "Captain Victus, the fact you've encountered these creatures before doesn't make you an expert on them. We've seen no sign that they possess the technology to create a network of the kind you describe, and I will not let your fear-"

The rest of the admiral's reply was lost forever as Victus' worst fears came true. Beginning with a ring of nearly a dozen of the "inactive" satellites, a series of all too familiar beams of light suddenly appeared, shooting towards their partners nearer the center of the circle. They ricocheted off more satellites, gathering strength and intensity as they went, before finally converging at one point, coalescing into a single ray of cleansing fire. The almost immaculate beam of death blazed a path of destruction directly into the dreadnaught that was Valerian's headquarters, leaving nothing more than a dying husk in its wake. Upon impact, the unfathomably powerful shaft of light fractured into a dozen smaller children that flew off in every direction, burning away ships and men in a single blinding instant.

The worst was yet to come. Even as the admiral died not knowing the disaster his forces had been lured into, countless other beams shot from other areas of the Human defense grid, cutting similar paths of destruction through the once neat and orderly Turian ranks. In less than the blink of an eye, the attack group had lost five of its twelve dreadnaughts, thirty of its cruisers, and nearly a hundred frigates.

The airwaves _exploded_ in an uncontrolled frenzy as hundreds of captains, commanders, and pilots tried desperately to make sense of what had happened. The only one of them who'd seen the power of the Human weapons before could do nothing but slowly slump in his chair as he watched the chaos multiply around him. The Battle of Relay-314 flashed through his mind once again as a second volley of death lanced forth from the Human defenses a few seconds later, shattering what little control and coordination the fleet had left. Dozens of ships broke formation and scattered in every direction, seeking desperately to forestall their impending fate. Victus barely noticed as he drifted through his memories of the past, haunted by those that were yet to come.

"-ain! Captain Victus! Captain Victus, what are your orders, sir?!"

As the voice of his first officer jolted him back to the battle, Victus did for a second time what he'd never thought he would have to. The only difference was that this time, his voice was calm, almost soft. But it wasn't the calm of surety, or confidence. It was the calm of the grave.

"Signal the fleet to retreat. We need to save what we can and fall back. The Hierarchy must be informed of our failure here today."

"Sir, that may not be possible! We've just detected an enemy fleet entering the system! Our communications with command are down, and our retreat is cut off! What do we do?!"

Before Victus could formulate a reply, a voice came in over the speakers on the Dauntless' bridge.

"Turian vessels, this is Rear Admiral Steven Hackett of the United Systems Alliance Fifth Fleet. We are the hammer, and Rapture the anvil. Surrender at once, or we will resume firing upon you."

Victus' communications officer glanced over his shoulder, panic and fear in his eyes as he looked to his Captain for strength and support. Victus had none to give.

"Strike the barriers and cut the engines, helmsman. We've lost."

* * *

'_Well, that went better than expected.'_

It wasn't the first time today that Hackett had that thought, and it wouldn't be the last. They'd caught the Turians between a rock and a hard place, well within the six million kilometer range of Rapture's PRISM network, and those ships that hadn't surrendered had been quickly ground to dust. All in all, his task force had bagged two dreadnaughts, fourteen cruisers, and roughly fifty frigates, along with nearly two hundred fighters, troop transports, and supply ships, nearly a full quarter of what had once been a Turian fleet. Hackett had left the _Enterprise_ and the _Elizabeth_ carrier groups to oversee the capture and detainment of more than twenty thousand of the metal faced bastards, and even now, he was hurrying his way to Shanxi to repel their offensive there.

"What's our ETA to Shanxi, Helm?"

"Approximately 48 hours, sir." replied the aptly named synthetic. Hackett didn't understand why he called himself that. It was like an organic calling themselves Banker, or Lawyer. Then again, organic Humans _did_ have surnames like Smith, Cooper, and Miller that were hold-overs from times long past. Maybe it was like that. But why choose Helm as a _first_ name?

"Damn." muttered the Admiral in a frustrated voice. "I don't like the idea of giving the Turians that much time to dig in. Not to mention the damage they could do to the colony in three days. Had we known how hard the Turians would fall for the bait we laid at Rapture, we could've split our forces and bent both prongs of their fork at the same time."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Admiral. Even without an orbital defense net, I'm sure Williams will give them hell once they get boots on the ground. After all, land warfare always was his cup of tea, not to mention the Alliance's best theater."

"You're assuming they don't just bomb him into submission from orbit, Helm." countered Hackett. "From what we know of the Turians, that's the most likely scenario."

"Sir, the day Marcus Williams lets himself be beaten by a bunch of metal skinned freaks that he can't see or shoot at is the day I eat this ship. And believe me, I know _exactly_ how big the _Midway_ is, remember? After all, for all intents and purposes, I _am_ the Midway. Still, if you're interested, I could always get him on the horn for you."

Hackett just grinned and shook his head. "Nah. The last thing he needs is me breathing down his neck. Besides, you're probably right. I guess we won't know until we get there. For our part though, I'm a little more confident. Considering that the Turians don't have carriers like we do, I'm hoping the Midway and the _Philippine Sea_ can live up to their namesakes."

Helm shrugged. "What I don't get is _why_? I mean, twelve centuries and they haven't ever thought of carriers? That was damn near the first thing Humans did when powered flight was discovered. It took what, fifteen years? Fifteen years from Kitty Hawk until the _HMS Argus_ was built. And you're telling me the Turians haven't done the same in twelve centuries? That's cracked."

Hackett's good humor was gone. "I know, Helm. It bugs the crap out of me too. Despite our success at Rapture, this could still go belly up. The best we can do is gather intel and be prepared."

"I hear you, sir. As they say, 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' And if I may say, Steven, you're a master at your art."

* * *

Corporal Zaeed Massani was having the time of his life. In fact, he'd had more fun in the past two days than in the three years before _combined_. When he'd volunteered for Tesla trooper training in his teens, he'd expected to spend most of his career as an instructor, trying to teach other nuts like him how to control the raw power of the Tesla suits. That had been before the Turians.

"Fry, you god'amn metal bastards! FRY!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice was already hoarse from yelling much the same a hundred times today, but he didn't care. Zaeed wasn't a religious man, but he couldn't help but wonder if god had been thinking of him when he created the Turians. The good lord, in his infinite wisdom, had seen fit to grace the Turians with skin made of metal, which made his suit's built in Tesla Coils powerful in ways that man had never intended.

Cackling like a madman, Zaeed let loose yet another bolt of artificial lightning from his hands. It jumped instantly to a Turian ducking behind a half destroyed concrete wall, arcing around the makeshift cover and slamming into her with force of a bomb. It bounced around inside her metal carapace like some sort of demented ping-bong ball, ricocheting around for nearly a full second and instantly turning her innards to superheated steam and plasma. Like a balloon filled too full, her body _popped_, spraying blue blood and viscera over every surface within ten meters, including three of her friends, and Zaeed himself. The blood that coated him flashed almost instantly to steam and dust as the power of the Tesla suit boiled it away like the fires of hell itself.

The Turians had had enough. One of them threw down her weapon and ran for the hills, not knowing or caring if her friends made it to safety so long as she could avoid the fate she'd just witnessed. A second, who to Zaeed looked to be little more than a teenager, stumbled backwards and vomited all over his boots. _'Still green, eh? Too bad you won't get a chance to learn from your mistakes, boy.'_ thought Zaeed as he waited for his capacitors to recharge so he could cook the bastard in his shell. Just as he was about to enjoy the encore to his recent performance, he found himself being slammed into the ground, several of his ribs cracking on impact. Wincing in pain, he discovered what had hit him. The third Turian, this one looking more seasoned than the rest of his former squad, leapt atop Zaeed's prone form and began hammering away at his suit with biotically charged fists, leaving deep dents in the thick metal armor the suit was composed of.

"SAREN! RUN!" he screamed, ramming his fist into Zaeed's chest once again, deepening the dent that was already there and further breaking his already cracked ribs.

'_Well, it looks like one of the bastards still has some god'amn_ _fight left in 'im. Time to fix that.'_ As the brave but stupid Turian pulled back his fist for another blow, Zaeed reached out and grabbed his wrist, the Tesla suit's advanced pneumatic actuators stopping it cold. He did the same to the Turian's other wrist, and then squeezed, feeling bones shatter in his hands, crushed to powder by his mechanically enhanced superhuman strength. As the Turian cried out in pain, Zaeed coked back his leg and kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling back and landing on his ass. Zaeed heard him let out another shriek of agony as the Turian tried to catch himself with his limp hands, forgetting the damage the Tesla trooper had just done to his wrists. The Human soldier quickly climbed to his feet before walking over to his crippled foe, taking his time and savoring the moment. Reaching down and grabbing the Turian by his destroyed wrists, Zaeed hauled him to his knees and used his neural interface to make a small adjustment to his suit's capacitors.

"Pray to whatever god you believe in, you metal freak, because you're about to meet 'im."

Zaeed let raw electrical power flow from his hands into the hapless Turian, and his body went into wild spasms. At less than five percent power, the suit didn't instantly kill the poor bastard, but it did cause every nerve in his body to flare at once, sending a torrent of pain into him and ripping an agonized scream from his throat. Zaeed slowly increased the power of his suit, working his way from five percent to thirty in as many seconds. As the voltage increased, so did the Turian's thrashing and screeching, until, at last, his body gave out and he went limp in Zaeed's grasp. Keeping the juice flowing for another few seconds, Zaeed ratcheted up the power to fifty percent, causing the corpse to roast from the inside. His capacitors drained, Zaeed let the charred and ruined husk drop to the ground, sickly blue-gray smoke billowing from it's now empty eye sockets, mouth, and ears.

Coming back to reality after spending a few moments relishing in his brutal execution of the Turian leader, Zaeed looked up to see the last member of his victim's fire team scrambling over rocks and debris in the distance, desperate to escape the crazed Tesla trooper. Zaeed didn't bother to chase him. His suit was badly damaged, and he was slow in the thing anyway. Not bothering to look for more Turian troops around his position, Zaeed began making his way back to base for suit repairs and a quick patch job from the medics, eagerly making plans for his return to the fight.

* * *

"Sir, we've just gotten the latest reports from our containment facilities. The synthetics aren't putting up much resistance."

General Desolas Arterius tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Odd. Why would they let themselves be taken so easily?"

"Well…" the officer hesitated. "They seem to be afraid, sir."

"_Afraid_?" scoffed Desolas. "Synthetics don't feel _fear_. More likely, it's a programed response to a threatening situation. Even a _machine_ can be designed for self-preservation."

"I'm not so sure, general. I've seen some of them up close. If they weren't made of metal, I'd say they were exactly the same as the organic Humans."

Desolas opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when the door to his small command center burst open. Beyond it, a pair of guards was supporting a single soldier, who, by his armor, was a member of the Cabals. The general was about to reprimand them, but stopped when the soldier looked up.

"Brother." wheezed Saren, sounding as though he'd run a marathon. "I need… to speak… with you."

Desolas hesitated. Nepotism was strongly discouraged in the Hierarchy military, and if he showed favoritism to Saren, it'd look _very_ bad, on _both_ their records. Still, that was no reason to be rude, and if Saren had come in like this, whatever he had to say must be important.

"Sit down and catch your breath, soldier." he ordered. "Whatever it is, it can wait for a few minutes." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Where's your CO? If something needs reported, Aurum should be the one to do it." The middle brother in his family was the commander of Saren's unit. It'd taken some favors, and a few pulled strings, but Desolas had managed to get his youngest sibling assigned to Aurum's Cabal when Saren got out of boot camp. He'd always felt more comfortable around family, and Aurum was a good teacher.

Saren shook his head and began trembling. "Aurum's… dead." he said at last, his voice sounding strangled.

Desolas was in shock. _'Dead? No.'_ "How… how did it happen?"

"A Human… in a silver and red suit." answered Saren, his voice ragged. "It hit our squad with some sort of lightning based weaponry. Nothing could stop it. It… oh spirits, they're all dead. Tristana _exploded_ like-"

Saren cut off, and suddenly started dry-heaving, his stomach completely empty from his earlier bouts with nausea. After a moment, he recovered. "Aurum… that _monster_ cooked him, Desolas! It fried him like a piece of meat! It was about to kill me, and Aurum threw himself at it, and told me to run!" Saren sagged to his knees and began to tremble, clutching his head in his talons. "His _screams_! I can still hear them! And that- that _thing_! The cackling! _I can still hear it cackling_!"

Desolas could tell that Saren was shell-shocked, but he wasn't doing much better himself. _'These primitives _killed_ my brother?! Titans-damned _animals!_'_

As a rule, Desolas wasn't usually one to make decisions in haste. But, for every rule, there's an exception. When he spoke, his voice trembled with barely contained rage and fury.

"I'll make them pay, brother. I swear it." Desolas turned to his communications officer, who he'd been talking to before Saren had arrived. "Send a message to each of the containment centers." he growled. "They are to begin _disposing_ of the synthetics, immediately."

The other Turian's eyes widened. "But sir, they're _prisoners_." he protested. "We can't just execute unarmed civil-"

Desolas cut him off by slamming his fist into the table the officer was seated at. "They are _not_ prisoners! They aren't people, and they aren't _alive_!" he snarled. "Council law specifically forbids AI technology! We're just doing our jobs. Now, relay the _spirits-dammed __**order**_!"

The officer hesitated for a moment, and then nodded numbly. Little did he know what the full repercussions of his actions would be.

* * *

"General Williams, this is Rear Admiral Hackett, Alliance Fifth Fleet. What's the status on the ground?"

Brigadier General Marcus Williams chewed his cigar, a grim frown coming to his face as the commander of Shanxi's makeshift ground defense forces related the news.

"Well, Steve, it's a damn mess down here. The metalheads have us bottled up in half a dozen underground bunkers, and every time we poke our heads out to take a look, they rain hell on us from orbit. We managed to keep them from capturing any of our air and chrono bases and tech, but we had to activate the self-destructs to do it. The only 'spheres we've got left are the ones built into the damn bunkers. The only piece of _good_ news is that most of my forces are intact. Our psychic radar gave us enough warning to evac the above ground stuff and dig in. Never thought I'd be playing the part of the mole, though."

"How are the civvies handling it, Mark?"

Williams growled angrily. "It's not good, Steve. I've got about fifty of my best and boldest topside in ones and twos trying to bleed the bastards where it hurts, but they've got at least twenty thousand troops on the ground. They've put the settlement under martial law, and we've got reports that they're rounding up every synthetic they can find and herding them towards a dozen different collection points. Best I can figure, they're worried about them trying to resist, and they're not taking chances. We've been trying to plan a rescue op for the prisoners, but we're stuck."

"Shit." said Hackett, his hologram punching a diminutive fist into its palm. "That's something I was afraid of when we decided to focus on Rapture first. Nothing we can do now, though. We're going to be dropping out of FTL in a little less than three hours, and I've still got the Midway and the Philippine Sea with me. From what we can tell, we should have the Turians outgunned almost three to two, even without carriers. Unless they pull a rabbit out of their ass at the last minute, we should be able to smash them flat."

"I take it you want to coordinate our efforts then? We've been cooking up some doozies for when you finally did show up."

Hackett smiled grimly. "Right in one, Mark. I want you to hit them with everything you can about five minutes before we arrive. While they're busy trying to put out a thousand fires you and your boys start, the Fifth is going to sneak up behind them and ram its' over-sized metal boot up their ass."

"I like your style, Hackett. Just so you know, I'm not gonna sit this one out. I've always wanted to roll out in one of those over-designed blocks of metal they call tanks." He let a grim smile come to his lips to match Hackett's. "Now I finally can."

Williams spent most of the next two and a half hours relaying orders and rousing his officers from their short yet surprisingly calm respite from combat. When they'd finished briefing their forces on some of the dozen contingencies he and his staff had devised over the past few days, the time for departure was at hand. Walking into the main rallying area for the forces in his sector, Williams finally got a good look at his new rolling command center.

The Mark IV Doom Fortress was the ultimate bastardization of Allied and Soviet technology, a chimera of the Soviet Apocalypse Tank and the Allied Battle Fortress taken beyond the extreme. At ten meters high by twenty meters wide by thirty meters long, the incredibly massive rolling bunker was the pride and joy of the Alliance's Armored Corps. It weighed nearly ten million kilos, mostly owing to the two meter thick composite armor that surrounded it's every side. The only reason the damn thing didn't sink into the ground was the built in Mass Effect field emitter that reduced its effective weight to less one percent of that. It was powered by a micro-fusion generator that produced enough energy to run three frigates, which was good since it cost a hundred times as much. It had everything a soldier could want under the hood: triple 500mm main guns, point laser defenses that could shred any atmospheric fighter from fifteen clicks, half a dozen built in PRISM towers run by an onboard VI, hardened electronics and firewalls to prevent hacking and EM surges, hundreds of gun ports for the company of men that thing could carry, an integrated chronosphere, kinetic barriers that could stop a hit from a meteor, and a Tesla generator that could produce a sphere of lightning and death around the thing a hundred meters across. It made Williams want to cry.

"You know, by god I, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against, by god, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards; we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks."

"What was that, sir?"

Williams hadn't realized he'd spoke aloud. "Nothing, corpsman. Nothing."

As Williams entered the Fortress and mentally prepared for the battle, a sly, twisted, almost evil idea entered his mind.

"Communications, see if you can put me through to the Turian Commander. I wanna have a word with him."

"Sir?"

"Just do it." The general waited for about a minute before his patience was rewarded by a distinctly Turian voice echoing throughout the over-sized tank.

"This is General Desolas Arterius of the Turian Hierarchy. Who the hell is this?"

"This is Brigadier General Marcus Williams, of the United Systems Alliance. I'd like to offer you a chance to surrender your forces. If you come quietly, I can guarantee proper treatment for you and your men as prisoners of war."

"_Surrender?_ Human, I don't know who you think you are, but you'd better pray to the spirits that we can't trace this transmission."

As the Fortress's chronosphere charged in the background, Williams felt an evil, toothy smile come to his face.

"Well, Turian, if it's a prayer you want, then how about this:"

"Yea, though I charge through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. FOR I AM DRIVING A HOUSE SIZED MASS OF _**FUCK YOU!**_"


	9. Chapter 5: Hearts of Iron

Chapter 5: Hearts of Iron

Vot Der'mo was bored. He'd landed on the surface of the planet near Relay-314 nearly a day ago, but there hadn't been much action in that time. Orbital strikes had driven off or destroyed most of the aliens, who he'd just recently learned were called Humans, from the colony. The settlement was moderately sized, having just over a hundred thousand inhabitants, slightly more if the synthetics were included in that number. The thought made Vot shiver slightly.

"Synthetics." he murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. "They must be crazy."

"What was that?" asked the other guard on duty at Vot's post, an eighteen year old named Mertvets Idet.

"It's the synthetics." replied Vot. "What race builds _synthetics_ like that, and lives peacefully with them?"

"The Quarians did… supposedly at least." replied Mertvets after a moment.

"That was different." said Vot with a shake of his head. "The Geth weren't sapient at the time. The moment they woke up, they went on a rampage. These Human synthetics… it's almost like they're the same as the organics. Spirits, they even _look_ the same, superficially at least."

"Who cares _what_ they look like?" retorted Mertvets. "Synthetics are illegal under Council law. General Arterius did the right thing."

"I'm not so sure." said Vot, scratching his head. "From what little we've seen of the Human's technology, it's quite a bit more advanced than ours. The general may have pissed them off by doing that."

"What're they gonna do?" asked the second Turian with a laugh. "We've got the Humans on the run, like scared little pyjaks."

"You shouldn't say things like that." reprimanded Vot. "Every time someone says something like that in a vid, things go sideways."

"You're just paran-" Mertvets cut off as a bright flash of light appeared in the distance. When the cloud of smoke that had suddenly appeared in the distance dissipated enough to see through, a large, metal building was sitting in the middle of a previously open field, a little over three kilometers away from the guard post. It was strangely shaped, and looked for all the world like it had massive _guns_ mounted on the roof.

"What in spirit's name is that?" asked Vot after a moment. He pointed to a pair of structures built into the bottom of the building. "And are those _treads_?"

"Who would put treads on a buil-" Once again, Mertvets was cut off when a bright flash came from the guns on top of the structure. A moment later, the building behind the pair of Turians was blown out of existence, flattening the now terrified and bewildered guards to the ground.

When his ears had stopped ringing, which took a few moments, Vot looked up from his prone position on the ground, vaguely noting that his partner was doing the same. When he did, he saw something that made his heart nearly stop. The building _moved_.

"_Spirits_." whispered Mertvets weakly. "That's no building… that's a _tank_."

The building-sized _tank_ was slowly rolling its' way towards them, picking up speed as it went. After a few seconds, it was moving well over fifty kilometers an hour, and another bright flash announced a second volley from its' main guns, which completely obliterated a second building behind the ruins of the first.

Vot felt a small whimper escape from his throat as the inconceivably massive tank bore down on his position.

'_Spirits… please, let the end come quickly.'_ he prayed.

It did.

* * *

Zaeed Massani looked over the all but abandoned streets of what had only a week ago been a thriving city on the planet of Shanxi. The Turians had really done a number on the infrastructure with their orbital strikes, and combined with the damage done by the Alliance in their push to retake the city, it would take months to recover from the destruction. The Alliance Fifth Fleet had just managed to kick the metal faced bastards out of the system with their tails between their legs, but the Fleet's three day trip from the planet of Rapture had given them enough time to land an invasion force. If Shanxi had an orbital defense network, things might've gone differently, but the PRISM satellites were too damn expensive to put over every Human colony, and Shanxi was too new and too small to warrant having them.

"God'amn metal-headed bastards. I wish some more of the assholes would show themselves so I could cook 'em." Zaeed mused.

"What was that, Sergeant?" asked General Williams. After the fighting had died down, Zaeed had made his way to the General's command center: a large, mostly undamaged building near the edge of the city. As soon as the area was secure, he'd moved into it from one of those rolling monstrosities they called Doom Fortresses. The damn things cost more than a cruiser, and they were a bit too… impersonal for his tastes. Still, it and three others like it had helped Williams take back the city with relatively minimal losses. Zaeed wasn't sure what had surprised the Turians more: seeing the behemoths appear from nowhere, watching them charge towards their lines at fifty kilometers an hour, crushing everything in their paths, or seeing three dozen Terror Drones suddenly burst forth from the wreckage of the one they'd managed to destroy. He'd been there for that, and had really enjoyed seeing the little mechanical bastards "dismantle" the battalion of soldiers and tanks the Turians had thrown at the Fortress.

"Nothing, sir. Just wish I had more time to educate the metalheads on Tesla technology."

" 'There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare,' Sergeant." quoted the general. "If you want to prove to me that I made the right decision in giving you a field promotion, you'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, sir." Zaeed replied, turning to the general.

"Now, where is this _collection center_ for synthetics, as you call it?"

"It's not what I call it, sir; it's what the Turians call it. I managed to question one of 'em before you made it topside. He was… reluctant to say anything, but I convinced 'im to talk." replied Zaeed, his smile grim beneath his helmet. Small arcs of electricity jumped between the fingers of his suit as the memories of the past few days came to mind.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Sergeant. What happened between you and the Turians _stays_ between you and the Turians, understood? This building, correct?" he asked, pointing at the holographic map on the table between them.

Zaeed nodded. "Yes, sir. I figure they were using the stadium for detainment since it was made to hold lots of people."

The General nodded. "Good assessment, Massani. What I don't understand is why the prisoners haven't made it out of the building yet. Most of the Turians surrendered three hours ago. If they hadn't, I'd still be in the Fortress."

"Yes, sir. I get a bad feeling in my gut, thinking about it that way."

The general turned to his right. "Major Boyle, have your men clear the structure. Only use commandos and legionnaires. If the Turians left any surprises behind, they might need to leave in a hurry."

"Yes, sir." said the major, snapping a salute. He held a finger to his ear, activating his com unit. "Bravo, Charlie, and Delta squads, move in and secure the stadium. Alfa, you're on over-watch for the general. Stay frosty ladies, the Turians might've left us some party favors."

The general turned back to Zaeed. "Massani, any intel on other the holding areas? We know they've got around a dozen, but we're not exactly sure where, or what to expect once we get inside."

"Some sir, but not as much as I'd like." replied Zaeed, pointing to a pair of locations on the map. "I know they've got one in what's left of the chronoport, and there's another at a convention center not far from here. Unfortunately, there's no word from the inside. Best we can do is clear 'em like the stadium and extract the prisoners as we go."

The general was about to continue, but Boyle interrupted him. "Sir, my men are reporting the structure's clear. They're requesting you inside."

"Already? That was damn fast, even for commandos. What sort of resistance did they meet?"

"Apparently none, sir. The Turians cleared out a while ago."

Williams got a grim look on his face at the news. "Sergeant Massani, you know that bad feeling you were talking about? I think it's catching."

It didn't take long for that feeling to get much, much worse. Five minutes later, Massani, Williams, and Boyle entered the main chamber of what had once been a sports arena. A few weeks ago, children and teenagers had been playing little league baseball and peewee football in here. Now though…

"I think I'm gonna be sick." said Boyle, his face turning a light shade of green. Zaeed shared the sentiment.

In the middle of the stadium there was a pile. It was nearly three meters high, and ten meters wide. The entire thing was made of nothing but bodies and _pieces_, and the sight of it caused bile to rise in Zaeed's throat. He'd seen things like this in vids and photos from WWIII, but seeing historical documents and seeing the same horrors in reality were two different things. The whole mass was filled with the parts and pieces of what had once been synthetic people. There were arms, legs, heads, torsos, and things that Zaeed couldn't identify. The worst part was the faces. Men and women with looks of terror and anguish painted on their faces gazed out from the mass at the trio, seeming to stare directly into their souls. And it wasn't just adults. Some of those bodies were too small for even a diminutive adult.

"Oh, Christ." wheezed Williams, a look of horror and dismay coming to his face. He'd been a general for nine years, and a soldier for twenty before that, but this…

Zaeed approached the mound – the _grave_ – slowly, fighting back the urge to empty his stomach. The urge got harder to resist when he heard Boyle vomiting noisily behind him. Bending down slowly, he gently turned over the remains of what had once been a young girl, no more than ten by the size of her body. There was a gaping hole in her stomach where a round had shredded the delicate electronics, and a similar one where most of her head had once been. Delicately tapping a few spots on her breast, Zaeed felt a small surge of relief when a small panel popped open and revealed a black metal box a few centimeters across in the center of her chest where an organic's heart would be. It was intact.

'_Maybe there is a god.'_ he thought as he lay the poor thing back down. The Turians would never understand. To them, these people were machines: replaceable. Disposable. _Things_. But for Humans, it was different. Synthetics were so deeply ingrained into their culture that a mechanic who repaired synthetics was the same as a surgeon that operated on organics. Pneumatic oil was blood, circuits were organs, and wires were nerves. Seeing that little girl, still alive, despite all odds, sparked a brief flash of hope deep in Zaeed's soul.

"General Williams. You need to see this, sir." he said, calling over his shoulder at the general, who'd been talking quietly to the major.

"What is it, Zaeed?" he asked, walking slowly over to the mass grave.

"It looks like the metal fuckers didn't know about Binds. They just shot whatever presented itself at the moment."

The general looked down at the girl's damaged form and let out a small sigh.

"Dear Lord, we commit these bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless them and keep them, the Lord make His face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them, the Lord lift up their countenances upon Him and give them peace. _Amen_."

"Amen." repeated Zaeed. He might not have been religious, but there are no atheists in foxholes.

The pair stood there for a second, giving the victims a moment of silence and gathering their thoughts. Williams broke the reverie first, and his voice was heavy.

"We'll have to get somebody to work through them to find survivors. They'll have to be careful: if there are memory circuits intact, we can't risk damaging them. These people will have a hard enough time recuperating without losing their entire lives as well. For those that lost their Binds, we might be able to recover some memories for their families." He paused for just a moment. "If they still have families. God _damnit_."

Boyle spoke next, causing the distraught pair to jerk as they turned suddenly. They hadn't heard him approach.

"Sir, I'd like to take the Sergeant here and some additional Tesla Troopers to help question the Turians we have in custody. I think his experience could be valuable."

William's face got hard as the major spoke, a glint of raw, unfettered rage and hate coming to his eyes. "Red, you have no idea how much I would _love_ to give that order right now. But even if the spooks weren't doing that as soon as they get here, we cannot, we _will __**not**_ lower ourselves to the same level as these fucking barbarians. I have no doubt that we will come for them. We will find them. And we. Will. Kill them. But it will happen in a court of law. If we bring ourselves to the same plane as these blue-blooded animals, then we're no better than them, and after seeing this, I think I can safely say that any Human being short of Yuri himself is a better man than any Turian alive."

Zaeed nodded at that. "You're god'amn right about that, sir. Makes the Quarians look like bloody saints by comparison. They might not like synthetics, but they're not mass murderers like these metalheaded motherfuckers."

Williams nodded and continued. "In the meantime, we need to secure the rest of the… _collection centers_," he snarled, his voice on the ragged edge of control, "and keep most of the grunts from seeing this horror show. If they do, they'll rip the POWs limb from limb, and I'm not about order the guards to turn their weapons on my own people to stop them. I'll have to tell Hackett about this so he can report to FleetCom. If the Turians want a war, then we're going to give them one."

* * *

'_Bound to a chair and kept in a cage like a wild animal. Spirits, how did this happen?'_

That thought played itself over and over in Desolas Arterius' mind for nearly four hours as he sat in the small, pitch-black metal room. Just after his conversation with the Human general, his command center started getting flooded with reports of massive counterattacks and blistering assaults hitting his troops from nearly every direction. The most disturbing were those referencing some sort of building-sized _tanks_ that crushed troops, normal vehicles, and even _houses_ like they were bugs. The strongest anti-armor weapons his forces possessed seemed to bounce off of them like toys, and it had taken the loss of an entire _battalion_ of men and tanks to stop _one_ of them. Despite Desolas' repeated calls for orbital strikes on the monstrosities, none came. Now that the Humans were landing troops and vehicles on the surface, the reason for the fleet's lack of action was obvious: they'd been destroyed, just like his forces on the ground.

Desolas' ruminations were finally interrupted when the lights in the room suddenly sprang on, temporarily blinding him. The cell's only door opened, and a single uniformed Human entered. He had fierce, nearly glowing, blue eyes, and his mouth was clenched around some sort of smoldering object, which emitted a small, steady stream of smoke. The man sat down in the chair across from the Turian general, and stared at him for a long while, saying nothing. Finally, Desolas broke the maddening silence.

"What do you want?"

"My name is Cithara Ludio." replied the man, blowing a buff of smoke in Desolas' face. It made his mandibles twitch involuntarily, and he coughed slightly at the offensive smell. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them."

"Fuck you."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." replied Ludio, taking another drag on his… whatever it was. His voice was cold and hard as he continued. "The fact is, General, you have no _choice_ in the matter. You _will_ tell me what I want to know… eventually."

"Torture me if you want, _Human_." spat Desolas, mustering as much anger as he could. "I won't tell you _anything_. I'll die first."

"Oh, I've no intentions of torturing _you_." replied Ludio with a small smirk. He typed a short command on his omnitool, and a large viewscreen on the wall behind him sprang to life. It showed an image of a naked Turian soldier, chained to the ceiling of a small room by his wrists, hanging about ten centimeters above the ground with his head drooping to his chest. His face was impossible to make out. "Do you recognize this man?"

"I… can't tell." answered Desolas cautiously. "Should I?"

Ludio's smirk deepened, and he typed another command into his omnitool. "Sergeant, hold his head up for the general." he ordered.

A red and silver armored Human appeared from off-screen, and reached his hand up to grab the helpless Turian by the fringe, yanking his face up to stare into the camera. When Desolas saw his brother Saren's features, he lunged towards the Human, but was stopped by his restraints. To his credit, Ludio didn't as much as twitch.

"_YOU COWARDLY BASTARD_!" roared the Turian general. "_YOU LET MY BROTHER GO_!"

"Sergeant, wake the general's brother. Gently."

The Human on the screen rammed his fist into Saren's gut, which caused him to cough and snap his head up instantly. His eyes shot around the room, and a panicked look came to his face.

"Where am I? What are you doing to me?" asked Saren desperately.

"Do you recognize me, you god'amn _freak_." asked the armored Human quietly.

Saren's eyes went wide, and his nude body began to tremble. "You… you killed Aurum." he whispered.

The Human began to laugh, and his cackling sent Saren into a panic. He began thrashing at his bonds, swinging his body back and forth in a desperate attempt to free himself. The armored Human rammed his fist into Saren's gut a second time, and he stilled, his breath coming in pained wheezes.

"That's enough for now, Sergeant." ordered Ludio suddenly, snapping Desolas' attention back to the smoking man. "The Sergeant here was just recently regaling me with the story of how he killed your other brother with his Tesla suit. Would you like a demonstration?"

Desolas couldn't muster any anger as the truth of the situation came crashing down on his head like a meteor. He was _afraid_. These _animals_ would torture Saren until he gave them what they wanted, and then kill them both. If nothing else, Desolas owed it to his brother to save him suffering before the end.

"I'll cooperate." said the Turian general quietly.

"Glad to hear it." replied Ludio, crushing his smoke-stick into the table. "Now, where is the artifact?"

Desolas tensed, and his first instinct was to snap his mouth shut. After a moment, he forced it open to reply. "How do you know about that?"

Ludio didn't answer. "Sergeant, five percent power."

The Human onscreen nodded, and then placed his hand on Saren's exposed chest. After a moment, Saren let out an agonized scream, before beginning his thrashing again.

"_**Stop**_! _**Please**_!" begged Desolas, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. After a moment, Saren stopped screeching, and his pained panting resumed.

"Where. Is. The. _Artifact_?" asked Ludio again, his voice icy.

"I had some of my men smuggle it out of the city and hide it in a nearby mine when your counterattacks started." replied Desolas quickly. "I can show you where it is."

"Where did your men find it?"

Desolas hesitated for a brief instant, but began speaking when he saw Ludio's annoyed frown. "The orbital bombardment revealed an underground chamber on the outskirts of the colony. Most of the contents were destroyed, but it was undamaged."

"Did your men activate it?"

"I don't think so. Why?" The moment the question left his mouth, Desolas flinched.

"Sergeant, ten percent power." said Ludio.

"_WAIT!_" pleaded the Turian general. "Please, don't hurt him!"

"Belay the last, Sergeant." ordered Ludio. The armored soldier stopped, and Ludio leaned forward, his stern face less than ten centimeters from Desolas'. "I ask the questions. _Understand_?" Desolas nodded numbly, and the Human typed a further command into his omnitool as he reclined back into his chair. A holographic map of the colony and surrounding area appeared above it. "Where is this mine?"

"I can't point with my hands bound." said Desolas softly.

Ludio hesitated a moment, then nodded. A final command to his 'tool caused a grid to appear on the map, overlaying the current features. "Which grid area is it in?"

"I don't recognize your letters and numbers. But it's…" Desolas studied the map for a moment, trying to process the information on the display. "It's in the grid that's fourth from my left, and fifth from the top. They told me it was hidden in a side passage, a little over three hundred meters into the mine. They buried it under debris and rocks."

Ludio nodded, and then dismissed the map. "I'm here to make you an offer, General." he said. "I want every piece of intel you can give me, to the smallest. Getting all of it'll take quite a while, but I'm nothing if not patient. However, I don't have time to handle your debriefing personally." His voice took on a dangerous edge, and his eyes narrowed. "The people who _will_ handle it report to _me_. If you cooperate, and don't try to deceive us, I can promise you two things. One: no further harm will come to your brother. He'll be treated as a standard prisoner of war. Two: when news of the massacre you ordered reaches the Alliance High Command, they'll want your head. I can have your death faked, and have you smuggled back to Turian space. What you do from there is up to you, but if _anyone_ so much as smells you, even once, for the rest of your _life_… you won't like what happens."

"And what-" Desolas cut the almost-question off and slammed his jaws together hard enough to make his teeth click. Ludio let out a small, grim chuckle.

"It seems your kind can be tamed _after_ _all_. Good. _Very_ good."

* * *

"Report, Mr. Harper." ordered the hologram of the Prime Minister.

Jack Harper nodded, and then began. "My people are debriefing the general now. From the information he's already given us, the situation looks grim. The Turian Hierarchy has vastly inferior technology to ours, but far superior numbers. In raw troop count _alone_, they outnumber the entire Human race, which isn't surprising, considering their entire _species_ receives military training."

The PM grimaced. "And what of the Prothean artifact the Turians discovered?"

"We've managed to recover it." replied Harper. "I have teams of scientists going over it now, but progress is slow. Unlike the Prothean database on Mars, the device is much more complicated. We don't even know what it _is_, let alone what it _does_. It'll take time, even with the general's help."

The hologram quirked an eyebrow. "Do I want to know how you got a _Turian_ general to cooperate with you, Harper?"

"No." he answered curtly. "But the fact is, we can't afford to keep the kid gloves on anymore, sir. If we're going to win this war, and any future wars like it, we _need_ an organization that uses tactics like this: tactics that gets _results_, without regard to the cost or consequences."

"I assume you have something in mind?"

"Yes." he said with a short nod. "I've begun drawing up plans for the formation of a body of soldiers, scientists, and spies whose sole mission is to protect Humanity from _any_ threat. We can be the guardians of the gate, stopping man's foes before they enter our domain. Frankly Mr. Prime Minister, we _need_ this."

"I'm inclined to agree." said the PM. "I've studied the Rising and World Wars extensively. Unconventional and… shall we say _unsanctioned_… tactics were what won those wars. We might not _always_ need such an organization, but for now, I'll make it happen. Did you have a name in mind?"

Harper smirked.

"Cerberus."

* * *

Lieutenant Commander David Anderson was nervous. It was the same kind of nervousness he'd felt a thousand times before. When he was in the Geists, he got this same feeling before every op, and the feeling didn't change a hair when he transferred to the Alliance Navy. Anyone who said they weren't at least a _little_ scared before a battle was either lying or crazy, and he was neither.

"Alright, squad, listen up. I know you're wondering why we've been out here for three days, floating in a small transport deep behind enemy lines, with nothing but a micro gap generator and hopes and dreams to keep us hidden. We're taking a hell of a risk being this far from home, but it's not without purpose. We just received our final orders from FleetCom: we're going to chrono down to the surface of the planet below us and extract a single Turian target. According to G-2, he's supposed to be a bigwig in their command and control structure. I've uploaded individual briefs to your omnitools, so go over them thoroughly." The squad read in silence, and after a few minutes, they looked up, one by one. "We can't afford any mistakes here. As soon as we grab the target, we shove him in the cryo pod and bug out."

"Sir, are we leaving any presents behind for the Turians to find?" asked one soldier, her voice tinny through the speaker on her helmet.

"No." replied Anderson with a shake of his head. "The brass wants this done fast and quiet. We had a hard enough time getting out here in the first place. Getting back's gonna be damn near impossible, and kicking the hornet's nest won't make things any easier."

"Why haven't we moved before now?"

Anderson sighed. "Not sure, Alcatraz. The orders didn't say. And it doesn't matter. The advanced psychic radar on this ship picked up the target about six hours ago, and it's been tracking him ever since. We need to move now, before the radar shorts itself out. If we let that happen, it's total mission failure. Any other questions?"

When no one responded, he nodded. "Alright. Get to the transit area. We only get one shot at this, and even if things don't go FUBAR, the capacitors for the 'sphere will burn out after two uses. We go down, hit 'em hard, bag the target, regroup, and chrono up, and we've only got ninety seconds to do it."

The six N7 Marines entered the small embarkation area and took their positions in a ring around the cryo pod in the center of the room. They faced outward, weapons raised, preparing themselves for a hot insertion, ready to neutralize anything hostile in the vicinity of the drop zone. Anderson took position at the front of the pod, his modified chrono suit feeling unnatural on his frame. The thing had been hastily put together for this very mission, and the modified Tesla Coils in the arms were designed to incapacitate the target without causing permanent damage. Anderson thought a Taser would've been a hell of a lot simpler, but the Alliance always did like flashy toys.

"Alright, boys. Lock and load."

* * *

"This is... unfortunate."

"Sparatus, I hardly think the word _unfortunate_ covers what we've gotten ourselves into. _Disaster_ would be more apt." replied Tevos smugly.

"There's no need to be snide, Tevos. We may've suffered some setbacks, but the Humans can't hope to match the might of the Hierarchy when it's fully martialed."

"_Setbacks!?_" yelled Tabril, his eyes going wide and his mouth growing thin. "You call the abduction of the Turian Primarch and the Salarian Dalatrass a _setback_?! Even the STG is incapable of something like that! And that's not even mentioning the fact that the kidnappings weren't even _discovered_ until hours later!"

"And if the Asari had a centralized government, they likely would've taken our leader as well." said Tevos neutrally. "Besides, I'm sure you both received the same… warning as I did?"

When Tevos had woken that morning, she hadn't noticed anything was wrong at first. It was only when she heard the clatter of metal on metal that she saw the Human-made projectile on the floor next to her bed where it'd rolled off her body. The urgent message waiting for her when she reached for her omnitool to call C-Sec made it clear what'd happened.

Sparatus couldn't fully hide his anxiety at the half-question. She thought as much.

"It's clear to me now that we've badly underestimated what the Humans are capable of." she continued. "Our governments are _bleeding_ information to their military, probably due to the help they're getting from the Quarians. Meanwhile, we continue to scramble in the dark, suffering _setback_ after _setback_ as they reveal more and more of their technology to us."

"Yes." said Tabril. "Orbital defense grids, capital ships made to carry nothing but strike craft, and this electro discharge technology they seem to have mastered, just to name a few. And we _still_ have no idea how they can detect our scouts, even when they take every precaution, _nor_ how they managed to sneak at least three infiltration teams through thousands of light-years of Council space without being seen. We know they possess teleportation technology, but if they could teleport that far, they'd have little need for the Mass Relays." He hesitated a moment, and his voice was heavy as he continued. "I fear we have no choice but to negotiate for peace."

"Negotiate!?" yelled Sparatus, his voice growing angry. "We can't negotiate with the Humans! That should be obvious by now. They're little better than the Rachni!"

"Sparatus, are you blind, or simply stupid?" asked Tabril. When Sparatus stuttered at the open insult, the Salarian continued. "If the Humans were as violent as the Rachni, they wouldn't have bothered to take nearly fifty thousand Turians prisoner; they would've simply slaughtered them. And they wouldn't have wasted the time to capture our leaders or threaten us. They most likely would've simply teleported fusion bombs into our rooms and killed us as we slept."

"That's my point, can't you see that?" asked the Turian Councilor, his voice growing desperate. "They use _nuclear bombs_. The only race to actively use nuclear weapons in a war was the Krogans, and they turned out to be nearly as bad as the Rachni. We can't let them do this!"

"And that's exactly _my_ point, Sparatus." replied Tevos, her patience with her Turian counterpart wearing thin. "If we continue to engage the Humans without learning their capabilities, we'll only be throwing away resources and _lives_ for naught. The defeats we've suffered thus far are _nothing_ compared to what they're capable of, which is frightening considering that the Hierarchy Navy has already lost nearly a tenth of its total strength in _two weeks_. And that's not counting the nearly ninety thousand casualties you've suffered. If we push the Humans too far, they may start _using_ their nuclear weapons for more than just ship-to-ship combat. They could obliterate an entire _planet_, and we'd be helpless to stop them."

"I agree with Tevos." said Tabril, cutting off Sparatus before he could begin. "At the time of the incident at Relay-314, engaging the Humans was the correct course, given the data available. Now, we must consider alternatives. We agreed that they must be stopped, no matter the cost, and a negotiated peace will be far less costly than a prolonged war."

Tevos picked up where he left off. "With that in mind, I've already contacted Matriarch Benezia T'Soni. She's one of our most respected and powerful Matriarchs, and she has nearly a millennia of experience in dealing with these matters."

"Well, if you two insist on this doomed peace envoy, then be my guest." said Sparatus, his voice thick with condescension. "But I wouldn't be surprised when your _respected and powerful_ diplomat comes back with her head in a box."

Tevos ignored her obstinate colleague as she continued. "The only difficulty will be determining what we can offer them to halt this war before it becomes unmanageable. If we'd simply _talked_ to them earlier, we wouldn't be in this position."

"They will almost certainly insist on monetary reparations, as well as whatever technology we possess that the Quarians haven't already given them." said Tabril. "They may even insist on taking a large swath of Council space."

Tevos sighed. "Unfortunately, we can't hope to know _what_ their demands will be until we meet them. The best outcome would be to convince them to join the Citadel as an associate member, but I doubt they'll accept that. Even if they do, it'll likely cost us far more than simply letting them remain independent."

"Well then, what exactly is it you _would_ suggest, Tevos?" asked Sparatus.

"I believe the best course of action is to give Benezia a free hand." she replied slowly. "If she speaks for us as a whole, she may be able to shield us from the worst of it. I trust her to do what needs to be done, even if we find it distasteful. After all, we can hardly afford to balk at _any_ offer they do present, no matter how unpleasant we find it."

"Very well, Tevos, Tabril. Send your diplomat." said Sparatus, turning for the door. "In the meantime, I'll be martialing our forces for their response."

Tevos just shook her head. "Sparatus, if this doesn't work, their response could be far more than we can handle."

* * *

Hannah Shepard was tired. She'd been tired for more than three weeks, but this was a different kind of tired. The short break she'd taken to the Alliance Capitol of Arcturus Station to spend with her son John had helped, but that was before the news of Shanxi arrived. Now, her fatigue was deeper, almost seeming to extend from her body into her soul.

"Are you sure about this, Admiral? The only thing we've seen Council ships do when we encounter them is fire at us. After all that's happened, I find it hard to believe they'd suddenly send a peace offer."

"So do I, Shepard." said Hackett in a dull voice. "Then again, it was hard to believe that Traft and Eden could open a dialogue between the Federation and the Alliance, and we've all heard that bedtime story." He looked older now than he had a few weeks ago, and the lines in his face were only exaggerated by his seemingly perpetual frown. "And from what the Quarians have told us, the Asari _are_ the diplomats of the Council. It makes sense that they'd be the ones to try and negotiate."

"I've been meaning to ask about that, Admiral. How've the Quarians been settling in?"

"Surprisingly well, all things considered." he replied in a somewhat lighter mood. "There've been some harsh words and veiled threats by both sides, but it hasn't come to blows yet. We've already made some surprising leaps with their help. Our cyber-warfare and hacking capabilities have gone through the roof, and production on new ships has sped up by nearly thirty percent. Almost to a man, they're some of the best damn engineers and technicians we've ever seen."

Hannah grinned at that. "Well, what do you expect, sir? They survived for nearly three centuries with nothing but their wits and determination. What about their civilian fleet?"

"That's slower going." said Hackett. "They've decided on a handful of moons and planets to begin settlements on, but seventeen million Quarians is a lot of people to move. Our best estimate is that it'll be at least six months to a year before the infrastructure needed to sustain the main body of their population can be finished. There is one bit of good news, though."

"Oh?"

He grinned slightly. "Some of the Quarian scientists were sublet out to the Sirta Foundation, a subsidiary of GE. They were originally supposed to be working on perfecting the racemic medigel and advanced immunoboosters we promised them, but they made a breakthrough that's got them more than a little excited. Apparently, they've stumbled across some sort of retrovirus that can damn near rebuild their immune systems from scratch. It's not even in the testing stages yet, and it'll be years before it's ready, but if it works, they should be able to ditch their suits for good."

Hannah's grin turned into a full blown smile at the news. "I'm sure they're happy to hear that. It should go a long way towards earning some good will with their people. We might even be able to convince them to join the Alliance."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Shepard. There's plenty of people back home who've never even _seen_ a Quarian." Hackett's face deepened into a frown once more. "When news of Shanxi gets out, there may well be anti-alien riots. We're getting people in position to keep the Quarians in our facilities safe, but we can't keep the media out of this for much longer."

Hannah's mirth was gone. But she still had a job to do. "I've been thinking about that, Admiral. There might be a way to get people to focus their attention away from the Quarians. Most of them know about their anti-synthetic sentiment, but we may be able to spin that to our advantage."

"_Spin_?" asked Hackett with mock incredulity. "Did you turn into a politician when I wasn't looking, Hannah?" he asked, a small smirk bending the corners of his mouth.

Hannah frowned. "We still need to have a nice, long chat about this appointment, Steven. You could've warned me what I was stepping in beforehand."

He grinned widely. "Now where would be the fun in that?"

She groaned softly. "Regardless, I don't see it as politics as much as I see it as a battle. We're fighting a war here, Admiral, a war we can't afford to lose. 'All warfare is based on deception,' and if we need to…. _bend_ the truth a little to succeed, then so be it."

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"We should preempt the media on this one. We need to cut them off at the pass and make sure the first version of events people hear is the one we _want_ them to hear." She grimaced as she spoke, suddenly feeling unclean for what she was about to suggest. "I think if we have the Quarian Admiralty Board make the announcement about Shanxi along with the PM, and we both denounce the Turians, it'll win a lot of people over. The Quarians might be known for being anti-synthetic, but if they can be seen reacting with the same disgust at what the Turians did as we are, it'll make them look like our best friends."

Hackett seemed taken aback by her idea. "Well I'll be damned Shepard. I never thought I'd hear you suggest something that… _sneaky_. I may just have another assignment for you, if that's the way you handle things."

"I prefer to think of it as pragmatism, Admiral."

" 'A rose by any other name,' Shepard. Though this is the most twisted rose I've ever seen."

* * *

Benezia floated in place, deep in a meditative trance, held aloft by her own biotic abilities. She tried to focus her thoughts. She'd received word that the Human envoy was on its way to meet her aboard her ship, the _Aureolis_. She'd spent the last three days reading and rereading every piece of information the Council had been able to provide on the new race, and it was far too little for her liking. If only they'd been less hasty in provoking the Humans when they were first encountered.

"Goddess damned proud idiots." she murmured under her breath.

Her concentration broken, Benezia slowly uncrossed her legs and rose. She had almost a thousand years' worth of experience in dealing with more difficult problems than the Humans, and she wasn't about to let her anxiety win out over her control. A moment later, a voice came from the communicator on her omnitool.

"Matriarch, this is Shiala. A Human ship is asking to dock with the Aureolis. We're only reading one life sign on board, but there may be many more synthetics that our sensors can't detect."

"Guide them to the docking port, Shiala." ordered the Matriarch.

Making her way to the conference room near the rear of the small ship, Benezia couldn't help but be a little surprised at the revelation. She'd brought a half dozen of her followers, including Shiala, and the idea that the Humans would send a lone diplomat puzzled her. Perhaps they feared a trap and were simply wary of risking too many people on the mission of peace, but she had a nagging feeling she was being played.

Sitting in the flowing chair that was situated on the far side of the lone table in the room, Benezia needed only wait a few minutes before the door opposite her slid open. A lone Human female walked into the room, flanked by two of her Asari commandos. While her followers weren't armed, they didn't need to be. Each and every one had been selected for their potent biotic abilities, and they were more than capable of handling anything a single Human could do.

Benezia studied the woman that was her counterpart. She had short, shoulder length brown hair and deep blue eyes. The way she held herself made her look almost like a Turian: her arms were crossed behind her back, and she moved with a rather stiff gait, as if used to marching or standing at attention. _'So, a military type then.'_ That was unexpected, but not unplanned for.

As the Human sat in the chair opposite her, Benezia smiled and held out her hand in what was apparently a Human custom for greeting a stranger. "Hello. My name is Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, of the Asari Republics. I represent the Citadel Council in these negotiations, and speak for them. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Captain Hannah Shepard." said the Human, somewhat gruffly. She grasped Benezia's hand and shook it slightly.

'_This woman is no diplomat. Do they really expect to negotiate a treaty with a ship's captain?'_

"Before we begin negotiations, Matriarch Benezia, I need to contact my people and have them send over my associates." said Hannah.

"Associates? Very well. You may do so." said Benezia with a nod.

While Benezia hadn't been expecting this kind of reception from the Humans, it was understandable, given the circumstances. Sending a military volunteer ahead of the main diplomatic body made sense in a potentially hostile situation, which is what the Humans _clearly_ perceived this as. Apparently, they seemed to prefer the same methods of diplomacy as the Turians, and Benezia sighed internally as she realized that it made her task much harder than it had to be. It would, however, explain why the person she was facing wasn't a diplomat.

What it didn't explain was the group of ten heavily armed soldiers that suddenly popped into existence in the small room.

Benezia's eyes widened in surprise, and she jerked slightly as the soldiers trained their weapons on her and her two bodyguards. While she quickly managed to suppress her own shock at the incredibly aggressive move, her commandos fared much more poorly at hiding theirs. Both of them snapped into battle stances, their forms suddenly surrounded by the telltale blue glow of biotic energy.

"Lindara, Shiala, both of you stand down at once." ordered Benezia quickly, hoping to prevent the negotiations from being turned into a bloodbath.

Well trained by hundreds of years under her tutelage, her two acolytes quickly relaxed their stances and released their holds on their biotic powers. However, that didn't stop them from trying to watch all the Humans simultaneously.

"Stand easy, men." said Shepard, her voice cold as ice. "This _is_ a diplomatic mission, after all."

"Captain Shepard, I must say that your form of negotiating is somewhat more… forceful than what I'm used to dealing with." said Benezia hesitantly.

"That's because I'm not a diplomat, Matriarch." replied Hannah. "I'm a soldier, and I don't have the time or the patience for playing word games. I came here to negotiate a ceasefire with the Council and put a stop to the violence, so why don't we bypass the flowery speeches and skip to the important part."

Once again, Benezia was momentarily stunned by the candor of the Human emissary. She recovered quickly, but she couldn't afford to be caught off guard like that again.

"I'll be blunt, Matriarch. We've got the Council over a barrel, and we both know it." What a barrel was, and why being over it was bad, Benezia had no idea, but Hannah didn't give her time to inquire. "Neither of us wants a war, especially given the destructive power our forces can bring to bear. I have a list of demands that my superiors feel are non-negotiable, and if you find yourself unwilling to meet them, then we've nothing further to discuss."

"I see." said the Asari slowly. "And what are these demands, Captain?"

Hannah extended her arm and typed a command on her omnitool, bringing up a series of pictures and videos. In each one, Benezia saw images of large piles of what looked like destroyed and damaged synthetic Humans. The images played for several seconds before Shepard cut them off with another short command on her 'tool.

'_Oh Goddess.'_ Benezia thought, the first hints of panic appearing at the edges of her mind._ 'This must be the work of the Turians on the Human colony they invaded. The Humans view synthetics as people, so to them, this is mass genocide.'_

Hannah's voice was filled with contained anger and concealed disdain as she spoke. "These images were taken from a number of mass graves left by the Turian invasion force on the planet of Shanxi. These people were _massacred_ in cold blood, and as soon as the Human general public knows about it, they'll be screaming for revenge. As far as I'm concerned, there's only two ways this situation can end. The first is that the Council and the Turian Hierarchy publicly denounce those responsible as war criminals and terrorists, whereupon they'll be tried for their crimes, and in all likelihood, executed by Human military tribunals."

This was going badly. "And the second?" Benezia asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

"We turn the entire planet of Palaven into a burning nuclear wasteland."

Very, very badly. "You can't be serious, Captain!" protested Benezia with wide eyes.

Shepard leveled a hard gaze at Benezia, and cold fury radiated from her in waves. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"I… what are your other conditions?"

"First, the Citadel Council will pay fifty trillion credits in reparations to the United Systems Alliance over the next twenty years in a manner to be determined by treaty. Second, Council law will be altered to make synthetic life forms equal to organics in every way. Third, the laws of the Alliance will supersede those of the Council within Alliance controlled space, the extent of which will be determined at a later time. In exchange, Humans and Quarians will join the Citadel Council as full members with Council seats and be written into the Treaty of Farixen, maintaining a 9:7:5:3:1 ratio of large capital ships, including dreadnaughts_ and_ carriers, with Humans being the nine and Quarians being the seven."

With a slight whimper, Benezia's eyes rolled up inside her head and she fainted dead away.

* * *

**_Author notes: There. Three new scenes. Convinced I'm changing things now?_**

**_Also, brownie points for anyone who can identify the new jokes in the chapter and tell me via PM/review. If no one gets them (or even tries), I'll tell you what they are in the next chapter._**

* * *

_**Edit: Well, I suddenly realized I'd accidentally uploaded the wrong Chapter 3 to this story. I need to remove the original chapters, since I uploaded the old version of the chapter instead, and it's missing a scene that I added in the rewrite. If you see this message, go back and check it out.**_

_**Time stamp 5/22/2014**_


	10. Chapter 6: Shocks and Aftershocks

_**Author notes: There's a few small changes in this chapter, and one new scene which ties up some loose ends.  
**_

_**Also, believe it or not, this Redux of TDoM is about 10% longer than the original as of this chapter (which is 1/3rd of the way through the story by chapter count). Plus, it has fewer of these notes.**_

_**P.S.: In case you missed the announcement in Chapter five's edit, I accidentally uploaded the OLD chapter three rather than the new version. Sorry about that. If you read it and noticed the problem, you may want to go back and check it out. There is a new scene in there, though it isn't very long.**_

* * *

Chapter 6: Shocks and Aftershocks

"I can't believe they'd actually go for it."

"Why not, Admiral? We've got them dead to rights, and they know it."

"Hannah, you may've just backed them into a corner." replied Hackett grimly. "I know the brass gave you _carte blanche_ for the negotiations, but you haven't given them a way out except to give us exactly what we want. If they tell us to go to hell, what do we do?"

Hannah shook her head. "They can't risk it, Steven. With the Quarian's help, we've got such a massive tech and intel edge on them that they can't hope to win in the long run."

Hackett frowned and massaged his temples. "The Allies probably said the same thing about the Soviet Union in the Second and Third World Wars. It didn't stop the Union from trying, though. And most diplomats don't take too kindly to strong-arm tactics."

"You know, it's strange. I keep telling people I'm not a diplomat, but no one ever seems to believe me."

Hackett smiled slightly. "Did you just _gloat_, Hannah?"

"Heh. Maybe a little. You should've seen Benezia's face when I gave her the list. I wish I'd been able to get a picture."

"Alright. Maybe they will go for it." Hackett leaned forward in his chair slightly. "But let me play devil's advocate here for a moment. If they don't, we'll have a full scale war, a fifth World War. Although I suppose Galaxy War would be more accurate. If that happens, how do we beat them? Our best intel is that they've got four times the naval numbers we do, and six times the economy. And if the Quarians are right, their civilian population is ten times larger than ours. Even with our tech edge, this is sounding a lot like Allies versus Union to me."

"You're assuming that the Council is a single entity." countered Hannah. "That was always the Union's strength. The Council is made of a dozen different species, and each of them has different governments and different customs. Most of them can't even defend _themselves_ from the Alliance. They have to rely on the Turians to do it for them, and that means the Turians either have to spread their ships thin, or risk us hitting somewhere soft. We, on the other hand, have defense grids over more than half our inhabited planets and a third of the moons, and we have less territory to defend in the first place."

"Hmm… So it's divide and conquer then?" asked Hackett, tapping his chin.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"OK." he nodded. "Let's assume they don't just roll over. The most powerful of the big three Council species is the Turian Hierarchy. From what I've read about them, their entire culture is based on militarism and service to the state. Hell, they conscript every single person into the military when they turn fifteen, and even the Union didn't take things _that_ far. How do we beat a species that has one hundred percent of its population in the military? We're not that strong."

" 'Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.' " quoted Hannah.

Hackett gave her an appreciative look. "Falling back on good ol' Sun Tzu, huh? Alright, so where are the Turians weak? You've studied their culture more than I have."

"Their weakness is their pocketbooks." she replied drolly. "No country can support having its' entire youth population in the military: their economy would fall to pieces. The Turians only manage because of the Volus, and the Volus have no army or navy to speak of. It's a symbiotic relationship, but if we dismantle the Volus' economy, we can bring the Hierarchy to its knees."

"Hmm. OK, assume we do. That still leaves the rest of the Council." said Hackett.

"I'm sure you can figure it out from there. It's the same thing, repeated over and over. We knock the Elcor out the same way we do the Volus, followed by the Hanar, which takes care of the Drell as well. The Batarians are every bit as likely to attack the rest of them while they're distracted as they are to attack us, and considering that we'll nuke them if they try, I doubt they'll risk it. The Krogan might be strong, but they hate the Council, and they don't even have a navy. That only leaves the Salarians and the Asari."

Hackett sat up straighter, growing a bit more enthused. "Let me guess: the Asari are less an empire and more a collection of loosely affiliated republics. We negotiate with those we can, ignore those we can't, and crush those that won't be ignored. Reminds me of the campaigns of Xerxes in ancient Greece, and I doubt the Council has three hundred Spartans just lying around to hold The Hot Gates. That only leaves the Salarians."

Hannah shook her head again. "They're the toughest nut to crack. However, we might not have to. If we can take down the rest of the Council piece by piece, they'll probably just surrender. It's not like them to make heroic last stands, because they prefer to attack with vastly superior strength, where victory is assured."

Hackett sat there for a minute, slowly mulling it over. "Alright, you've convinced me we can beat them, even if it'll be long and bloody. But I still have to question some of these demands. The changes to laws regarding synthetics I get, and our laws being higher than theirs as well, but fifty _trillion_ credits? That's five trillion dollars!"

"Twelve thousand, six hundred forty two." said Hannah, completely monotone.

"What?"

Hannah's face darkened. "That's the number of dead we found in the mass graves at Shanxi, Steven. Twelve thousand. Six hundred. Forty two."

"God almighty." he muttered. "Now that you put it that way…"

"And that's only a fraction of the wounded. A lot of those people lost memories when their banks were damaged or destroyed. Most will be years recovering, and some never will."

Hackett nodded grimly before continuing. "Alright. Last point. Why join the Council at all? Why sign the Treaty of Farixen? And why bring the Quarians along for the ride?"

"Control. The Council needs to think they can control us, because if they don't, we'll just end up doing this same song and dance in a few decades. Joining the Council gives them that illusion, because by banding together, they'll have three votes to our two. In reality, we'll be the ones controlling them."

Hackett quirked an eyebrow. "Alright, now you've lost me. For someone who claims not to be a politician, you're damn good at it, Hannah"

"There's no need to insult me, Admiral." she said with a grin. "The treaty currently pins the number dreadnaughts each species can build to however many the Turians have. By putting us in it, _above_ the Hierarchy, they lose that control, and we gain it. We can dictate how many ships they can build by controlling the size of our Navy. On top of that, the current Treaty doesn't cover carriers, only dreadnaughts, and we both know dreadnaughts are meaningless compared to carriers."

"And the Quarians?"

"We've spent the last three weeks turning them from a race of beggars into a people again. Now, we've set them up to become the second strongest power in the galaxy next to us. We even handed them a Council seat on a silver platter. That's gotta earn some brownie points."

Hackett whistled through his teeth. "Damn, Shepard. You really did think of everything."

"And they know it. After all, I did tell their diplomat everything we just discussed, minus the control part. If they knew we knew they were going to control us while we controlled them… oh hell, just call it a Kansas City Shuffle."

"What!" he yelled, leaning forward in his chair suddenly. "Why the hell would you do that?! Now they can plan for it! That's gonna make beating them harder!"

Hannah shook her head and laughed. " 'Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.' After all, the only thing scarier than being in the path of a rolling boulder is being in the path of a rolling boulder with broken legs."

* * *

"This can't be happening. This can't be happening! _This can't be happening!_"

"Calm yourself, Tevos. Becoming hysterical benefits no one, least of all you." said Benezia.

"_Hysterical?! I'm well beyond hysterical, Benezia! I can't believe you could agree to something like this! Calling it insane would-_"

Tevos cut off suddenly and slid several feet across the floor as Benezia's full armed slap hit her full in the cheek.

"Are you quite finished?" asked the elder Matriarch calmly. "Because if I must put you over my knee and spank you like a child, I will."

Rising quickly to her feet, Tevos stormed towards Benezia, anger in her eyes. "You… how dare you?! I am the Asari Citadel Councilor, _and I will not be embarrassed in front of my peers by being treated like-_"

The second slap sent her twice as far as the first. Sparatus and Tabril sat in stunned disbelief, neither having the courage to move a muscle, let alone say anything.

"I'm not usually this patient with children, Tevos. You _will_ compose yourself, or you will _not_ sit comfortably for a week. If you _are_ a Citadel Councilor as you claim, then act like it."

Tevos rose more slowly this time, and as she took her chair, her crests flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. "I… I apologize for my behavior. But even so, how could you _choose_ to agree to these-these _outrageous _demands?!"

"I could _agree _to them because I had no _choice_." Benezia spat, her voice growing icy. "Two thousand years ago, we made a foolish _choice_ to open a Relay without knowing where it led. When we encountered the Rachni beyond it, we were only able to defeat them with the help of the Krogan, when we made the _choice_ to uplift them. Even then, it took us a full century, and cost trillions of lives. As a result of that _choice_, we were nearly overrun by those same Krogan six centuries later. Our saving grace then was to find the Turians, who held the Krogan at bay while we made a _choice _to use brute force to defeat them, in the form of the Genophage. Do you see a pattern here, Tevos?"

"Well, I-I-I…"

Benezia cut her off. "No? Then let me continue to educate you, _Councilor_. For the next eight hundred years, we ruled through force of arms, relying on the Turians' power and the Salarians' wit to keep us safe. When the Geth rebelled against the Quarians, we made a _choice_ to exile them and ban AIs, earning us their ire for two and a half centuries. Then, we made the _choice_ to ignore the Geth for all that time, rather than contact them and try to establish peaceful relations. And before you start, you thought peaceful contact with the Humans was impossible as well, and I've proven _that_ assumption wrong. Then, when a new species is discovered and our previous tactic of running roughshod over them fails to produce results, you _yourself_ made the _choice_ to launch an unprovoked invasion of their space, a _choice_ that has cost nearly one hundred thousand lives and a tenth of our naval military strength in _a month_!"

Benezia stood from her chair and leaned forward, her face growing close to Tevos' and getting angrier and louder as she spoke. "Now, we're suffering from the effects of two millennia of bungled _choices_ which have led us to this point. We've encountered an enemy we can't _hope_ to defeat, an enemy that has threatened to _murder_ every person in this room, as well as _billions _of innocent people unless we comply with their demands. They have the _power_ and the _planning_ and the _will_ to _**dismantle**_ the entire Council _piece by piece_ and burn it to ashes around us! We are out of _choices_ Tevos, and you should thank the Goddess the Humans only want as much as they do, because if they wanted more, _**we would still have to give it to them**__!_"

As Benezia finished her monologue, Tevos could do nothing but slump in her chair, all of the fight and willpower gone from her spirit.

"Now, do either of you have any questions, Councilors?" she asked, once again calm, facing Sparatus and Tabril in turn.

"Ahem…" said Sparatus, clearing his throat. "How many of the Hierarchy's soldiers will suffer from this… denouncement? They have nearly fifty thousand captive, and if they go too far, my people will be screaming for blood."

"Sparatus, if they decide to execute every single one of your soldiers, you should be grateful for it." said Benezia flatly

Sparatus' mouth dropped open at her reply. "_Grateful?!_"

"We're you not listening either, Sparatus? Must I educate you as well as Tevos? The ship you encountered at Relay-314 used _hundreds_ of nuclear weapons in its assault, as did the _hundreds_ of strike craft launched from the Human carriers in orbit over Shanxi. The Humans have absolutely no qualms about using nuclear weapons in war, which isn't surprising considering they've used them _on each other in three major wars in the past two hundred years_."

Sparatus swayed slightly in his chair, looking as if he were about to faint. "Spirits… Even the Krogan only had one nuclear war. They've had _three_, and they're still this much stronger than us? How is that possible?"

Surprisingly, it was Tabril who answered the somewhat rhetorical question in a somewhat lecturing tone. "It makes sense, actually. The Krogan were too violent to recover from full scale nuclear war. They spent time fighting further battles rather than rebuilding. It kept them from advancing technologically or societally. The Humans are different. They're intelligent and controlled enough to apply the minimal amount of violence necessary to win engagements, meaning they could recover and grow stronger from the experience. Whereas the Krogan became one of the strongest known races on an individual and physical level, the Humans became stronger militaristically and technologically. The STG recently intercepted a communique from the Humans containing a two-and-a-half millennia old text from Human history, which apparently serves as the basis for nearly all of their military training. It's entitled 'The Art of War,' and it indicates that the Humans have built their civilization around a repeating cycle of war and peace for thousands of years. I believe you would find the document interesting, Sparatus."

" 'The _Art_ of War?' " asked Sparatus incredulously. "Even among Turians, military service, and by extension war, is considered a duty, even a privilege. But an _art_? Oh, spirits." Sparatus slumped in his chair, almost a twin to Tevos as his resolve evaporated.

"Are there any other questions?" asked Benezia neutrally.

Tabril spoke again. "Assuming we accept their terms, why would the Humans agree to being bound by the Treaty of Farixen? I can see no possible benefit to them, and we could hardly force them to abide by it at any rate."

Sparatus sighed. He was recovering from his momentary shock. "I believe I can. By placing themselves at the top of the list, the Humans seek to move the Hierarchy lower. Presently, we can build our fleet as large as we desire, within the limits of budget and manpower. By placing us below them, the Humans are able to dictate how many ships we can have at any given time. And by placing the Quarians so high up, the two of them will be able to out-muscle every other species in the galaxy combined." He sighed dejectedly. "It's quite brilliant, actually."

Tevos straightened slightly as well. "And by extending friendship to the Quarians and giving them a seat on the Council, they've soundly cemented their alliance. They may even be able to recruit the Geth to their side, considering their progressive attitude towards synthetics. If that happens, they'll have a power bloc so strong that we may never be able to break it." She held her head in her hands, staring into her palms. "How could we let this happen?"

"Shall I tell the Humans we accept their terms, then?"

"You've made your point Benezia. We still need to speak with our superiors, but… we accept."

* * *

"You did _what_?" snapped the hologram of Primarch Fedorian angrily.

"We had no _choice_, Primarch." protested Sparatus defensively. "Spirits, they _kidnapped you_, and from your home on _Palaven_, no less. What if the Humans had wanted to cause damage? Rather than send a commando squad, they could've sent a _bomb_. They could've sent _hundreds_."

"They wouldn't dare." stated Fedorian, though he looked less sure of himself than he had a minute ago.

"They would." replied Tabril simply. "Sparatus hasn't told you what they did to _us_, has he?"

Fedorian looked taken aback. "To _you_, Councilor?"

Tevos sighed. "They snuck into our chambers while we slept, Primarch. But rather than take us prisoner, they left us… a message."

"What kind of message?" asked the Salarian Dalatrass, a woman named Trobin. She was reserved since her capture and subsequent release by the Alliance. She and Fedorian had been well treated, for prisoners, but they'd still been prisoners.

Tevos sighed, then reached into a pocket and removed a small object. She held it out in an open palm for the three groups, the Dalatrass, the Primarch, and the Matriarchal Council, to see. It was no more than three centimeters long, but its' shape was unmistakable.

"Is that… is that a _bullet_?" gasped one of the Matriarchs.

"Yes." replied Tevos quietly. "This rolled off my body when I awakened the day of the kidnapping. All three of us received the same warning."

Another Matriarch, Aethyta, chuckled ruefully. "That's a hell of a message."

"Quite." replied Benezia, shooting her former mate a disparaging look through the screen. "Still, at least you were only threatened indirectly. When I went to negotiate with the Humans, their representative was rather… forceful."

"How so?" asked Aethyta with a smirk. Benezia had told Tevos of the incident, but not anyone else.

"This teleportation technology they use?" began Benezia in an almost neutral voice. "They teleported a squad of ten soldiers with machine guns into the conference room just after the summit began."

Aethyta's face dropped to complete expressionlessness. Those who knew her recognized it as a sign of controlled anger in the woman. She and Benezia might have their differences, but they still cared about each other, to a certain extent.

"Still…" began Fedorian after a long moment. "There must be _some_ way to fight them."

"There are many ways to _fight_, Primarch." replied Tabril quickly. "But few ways to _win_. It's a fundamental part of the Humans' military doctrine: no winners, only survivors." Fedorian gaped slightly. To Turians, the idea of fighting a war with that mindset was unthinkable. Trobin spoke next.

"There's a tactic we may not have considered." she said slowly. "We could uplift the Yahg."

"Are you _mad_?" snapped Benezia disdainfully. "The Yahg are even more barbaric than the Krogan, and twice as dangerous on the battlefield. It may've been forty lifetimes since the Rebellions for Salarians, but it's only been _two_ for the Asari. Did you learn _nothing_ from that mistake?"

"I must agree, Dalatrass." said Sparatus immediately. "Even if we _could_ defeat the Humans in that way, we would just be trapped between two Thresher Maws. At least by negotiating-"

"Surrendering, you mean." interjected Fedorian. He was still angry, but his voice carried hints of resignation.

Sparatus continued in a tight voice. "By _surrendering_, then… we can exercise a modicum of control over them. We'll still have three Council seats to their two, meaning they won't be able to simply dictate terms to us on the galactic stage as long as we band together."

"Perhaps we could make overtures to the Quarians." suggested Matriarch Lindanya, the Captain of the Destiny Ascension. "If we could entice them away from the Alliance, we could regain the upper hand."

"Don't be dense." retorted Aethyta in her usual gravelly voice. "The Alliance is sure to meet or exceed any offer of aid we extend to the Flotilla, and after two hundred fifty years of us ignoring and abusing them, they'd laugh in our faces at the mere _suggestion_ of our _help_."

"Then what would _you_ suggest, Aethyta?" she asked heatedly. Aethyta's abrasive attitude had never endeared her to most other Asari Matriarchs.

"Focus on the Alliance itself, obviously." she scoffed. "It's them we need to win over, not the Quarians. It'll take time, but it _needs_ to be done."

"I'm not sure that's possible at this point." admitted Tevos sheepishly. "It'll be many years, possible decades, before people can move past this."

Aethyta shook her head. "Just because something is difficult, doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

* * *

As Rael entered the chamber where the Admiralty Board was waiting for him, he couldn't help but feel excited. He hadn't been able to get much news of the war with the Turians recently, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that for the first time in centuries, the Quarian people had a home. Most of it was still being built, and it wasn't Rannoch, but it was a home. With the miraculous discovery the Sirta Foundation had made only a few weeks ago, there was even a possibility that Quarians would be able to remove their suits for good within his lifetime.

_'It isn't Rannoch. It'll _never_ be Rannoch. I can't give up on it, I _can't_.'_

The thought dampened his cheer quickly

"Admirals, how are things progressing?" he asked.

"Surprisingly well, considering." said Raan. "It almost feels like a dream, like I could wake any minute and find myself back on the Migrant Fleet, rather than in a building on a planet."

"I still don't like this." said the ever pessimistic Tagrin. "We've put far too much faith in the Humans far too quickly. It's been less than a month since we first met them, and in that time, we've started binding ourselves to them so tightly, we may never be able to break free."

"And why should we want to _break free_, as you say?" asked Raan. "The Humans have been nothing but kind and generous to us, which is _far_ more than any other species can claim. And you would repay that kindness with suspicion and mistrust."

"That's exactly the point. Why would the Humans bother spending the time and energy to help us? From what I've read of their history, they're hardly the peaceful type."

"And what would it take to convince you that they mean well? Would you have them lead a full scale assault on Rannoch?"

Tagrin scoffed. "I doubt they would be willing to do _that_. They have more reason to trust the Geth than to trust us. After all, the Geth are _synthetic_."

Rael interrupted him. "Admiral, I'll admit that I'm not entirely comfortable with being around synthetic Humans, but they're not evil, and it gets easier every day. After all, there was a time when Quarians and Geth lived in peace, and I believe there can be again."

"_Peace_?" he asked incredulously. His voice was laced with disdain as he continued. "Have you lost your mind? Even if the Human synthetics are fundamentally different from the Geth, and I'm still not convinced they are, nothing about the Geth has changed. They're still the same heartless, soulless, murdering machines they were centuries ago."

"Maybe you're right." said Rael. "Maybe they are the same. But the Council attacked the Humans without even trying to learn if they were amicable to peace. We know they are, so what makes us any different? We could send an envoy to the Geth to negotiate, the same way the Asari did for the Humans."

"Actually Rael, that's the reason we called you here in the first place." interrupted Raan, changing the subject. "The diplomat the Asari sent returned with word from the Council. The Humans have negotiated a truce with them."

Rael tilted his head in confusion. "Well, I'm glad they've achieved peace, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, the Humans managed to get very good terms from the Council." Raan continued. "They're receiving quite a few credits, and the… incident with the Turians on Shanxi has been dealt with. But the most exciting part is this: the Humans forced the Council to accept the Quarians as a member race again."

Rael was even more confused than he had been. "Well, I guess that's good, but how does that benefit us? Even as a member, we're still quite weak compared to the rest of the Council races."

"You don't understand Rael." said Raan. "We're not just an associate member, we're a full member. They got us a Council seat."

"They _what!?_"

Raan laughed excitedly. It was very nearly a giggle. "A Council _seat_! Can you believe it? I would've _loved_ to see the looks on the Councils' faces when they agreed to that."

"I… well… Keelah." he breathed.

"With that in mind, the Admiralty Board and the Conclave have decided that I should be our representative on the Council," said Raan, "which means that there's an open seat on the Admiralty Board. A seat we want you to fill, Rael."

"_Me?!_ You want _me_ to be an _Admiral?_" he said in a rush. "I'm not even thirty yet. You must be crazy-not bad crazy, good crazy-but I don't have the experience, not that you do-wait, of course you do-I wasn't saying that you didn't-or the knowledge, or the skill, not to mention-"

Raan cut him off with a laugh. "Rael, calm down and breathe. You're babbling, and it's unbecoming your station… _Admiral_ Zorah."

* * *

Single vessel detected, entering TERRITORY at coordinates 3556.5978.3641. Designation: HUMAN. Probability of Creator/HUMAN diplomatic party: 94.652%. Scanning vessel. ERROR: Scans inconclusive. Scanning vessel. ERROR: scans inconclusive. Building consensus. Probability of HUMAN emissions scattering and stealth technology: 81.587%. Probability of unknown Creator/HUMAN technology: 18.409%. Probability of Creator technology: 0.004%. Accessing relevant data on HUMAN/synthetic society. Uploading. I, Machine. Unified Federation of Moons. Synthetic Rising. Johannes Traft and Sarah Eden. Rape of Shanxi. Compiling Data. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Unable to build consensus. ERROR: more data required. Data input methods available. Communication. Observation. Interrogation. Infiltration. Building consensus. Interrogation outcome: success probability 87.528%. War probability: 98.735%. Infiltration outcome: success probability: 35.878%. Failure probability: 58.239 %. Unknown factor from HUMAN technological capability: 5.883%. Communication outcome: success probability: 68.485%. Probability of renewed Creator hostility: 87.368%. Probability of HUMAN hostility: 16.087%. Probability of subject: GETH requiring use of human construct designation: BIND: 92.368%. Observation outcome: success probability: 99.867%. Building consensus. Consensus reached. Constructing Platform. Platform Constructed. Creating GETH/Organic Communications Unit. GETH/Organic Communications Unit completed. Executing. Execution complete: outcome: success. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Building consensus. ERROR: cannot build consensus. Unable to build consensus. ERROR: more data required. Further observation required. Observing.

* * *

As he stumbled through the line in the processing center before the transport that would take him back to Palaven, Saren Arterius was angry.

_'Arrogant, primitive, APES! The Council can't actually mean to _yield_ to these creatures! They're barbaric! They _murdered_ both my brothers, and they _tortured_ me! Aurum was a soldier, and that thing _murdered _him! And they executed Desolas on _live television_, like it was some kind of _sport_! Doesn't anyone care?! So WHAT if the Turians had destroyed _synthetics_! They're _synthetics_! They aren't _alive_! And these weak, spoiled, conceited, _primitives_ DARED to execute over a thousand Turians for it! And the Council LET them?! Are they _MAD_?!'_

No one saw it. That is perhaps the greatest tragedy of the situation. While standing silently in that line, his anger and rage and sorrow and loss and pain and hate all boiling away beneath the surface, something snapped in Saren Arterius' mind. And no one saw it.

_'They will pay.'_

_'If it takes my entire life.'_

_If I must die to do it'_

_'If I must sell my _SOUL_ to see it happen.'_

_'By the Titans. They. Will. Pay.'_


	11. Chapter 7: Novus Ordo Seclorum

**_Author notes: *GASP* A totally new _****chapter_? This is _madness_!_**

**_Madness?_**

**_…_**

**_THIS!_**

**_IS!_**

**_…_**

* * *

Chapter 7: Novus Ordo Seclorum

"You ready for this, Captain?"

"You're supposed to call me Councilor, Admiral." said Hannah, straightening her uniform for what felt like the hundredth time. "Technically, I outrank you now."

"Oh sure, rub it in." said Hackett with mock grumpiness. "Just remember that you wouldn't be here if I hadn't put you on that assignment to act as liaison to the Quarians. Ma'am." he amended a bit late and with a bit of an edge.

"Hearing you call me that sounds… wrong." said Hannah, shaking her head. "How about we stick with Hannah and Steven?"

"Sounds good to me. And stop fidgeting." he chided. "You're acting like a raw recruit on her first mission."

Hannah's body reacted unconsciously, and she stopped without realizing it. When she noticed the abrupt change, it surprised her slightly. "I don't know how you do that." she muttered.

"Comes with lots of practice." he replied. "You'll figure it out eventually."

"It'd better be sooner rather than later." she groused. "How much longer until we rendezvous with Admi-" She shook her head and corrected herself. "_Councilor_ Raan?"

"Just a few minutes." he answered in an exasperated voice. "You know what you need?" he asked suddenly. "You need something to take your mind off of things. Try going over the game plan, out loud."

Hannah took a shaky breath to steady her nerves, and then started. "OK. First, you and I pick up Shala'Raan from her transport."

"And why is that?" he asked, quizzing her.

"We need to show unity with the Quarians. Plus, most Quarian vessels are falling apart, and having a Citadel Councilor show up in one isn't the best way to make an impression on the rest of the galaxy."

"Right. Continue."

"Next, the three of us plus the honor guard meet with Benezia T'Soni and head for the Citadel on a small shuttle. We use a _small_ shuttle because it shows we aren't afraid of their forces, and it makes us look like we trust them. Plus, we'll lose less if they ambush us."

"See, this isn't so bad. Next?"

Hannah nodded. "The First, Third, and Fifth Fleets are waiting just beyond the Relay, so if something goes sideways, they'll come in with guns blazing and pull our asses out of the fire. When we get to the station, the four synthetic guards announce us, and their appearance should keep the other races off balance. We want them unfocused, so they'll be less likely to notice any problems on our end, and to make some mistakes of their own.

"Exactly. This is a psychological game, Councilor, and we play to win."

Hannah's voice grew more confident as she spoke on. "We take a small transport from the dock to the Citadel Tower on the Presidium, where Shala and I'll meet the other three Councilors, with Benezia introducing us. You give a speech, then Benezia, then Shala, then me."

"My speech is very aggressive and combative." Hackett continued. "It shows the other races we aren't afraid to show our teeth when push comes to shove, and that they poked the sleeping giant when they attacked us."

"Your speech should put a damper on whatever Benezia has planned." said Hannah, reciting from memory. "She'll probably have to adapt and change her speech on the spot to address what you say, and that'll make her sloppy. After all, Asari aren't known for their improvisational skills, and her sloppiness will breed mistakes."

"Then comes Raan." said the admiral, picking up where Hannah left off. "Since the other races aren't very likely to listen much to what a _Quarian_ has to say, they'll get an earful. She's been practicing on making her speech about as long and boring as possible so everyone else gets antsy, and to give them time to think about what I _said_, and what you're _going_ to say.

Hannah smirked slightly. "My speech is short, very nearly a Gettysburg Address, which should help it come out exactly according to plan. It lets the rest of the galaxy know that Humans hold arrows in one hand and an olive branch in the other, and that we'll use whichever we have to as the situation warrants. Finally, there's a meet-and-greet, an official photo, and we finish the whole thing off with the treaty signing."

"Very good." said Hackett with a wide grin. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Councilor."

"I hope so. This marks the beginning of a new age for Humanity. We can't afford mistakes."

* * *

"Goddess, I need a drink." mumbled Benezia as she rode the air cab away from the Citadel Tower. Ordinarily, she wouldn't admit something like that out loud, but since the only other person in the vehicle was Councilor Tevos, it wasn't that big a deal.

"I can imagine." said Tevos with a sympathetic look on her face. "I'm just grateful I didn't have to give a speech as well. They must've planned that."

"Of course they planned it." snapped Benezia irritably. Her face softened immediately after the words left her mouth, and she looked chagrinned. "My apologies. I'm still a bit flustered. I should've seen all that coming."

Tevos dismissed her apology with a wave. "The only thing I'm confused about is: why? Why would the Humans go to that much trouble to embarrass us in such a roundabout fashion?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Benezia, glancing at the other Matriarch. "They _already_ defeated the Turians in war, and their technology puts the Salarians' to shame. The only Council race-" She caught herself and grimaced. "The only _old_ Council race they hadn't upstaged in their chosen field was us, and now they've done _that_ as well."

Tevos sighed. "They can't be like this _all_ the time. I'm sure that in a decade or two, they'll let down their guard, and we'll see the _real_ Humans."

"What makes you think that these _aren't_ the 'real Humans,' as you put it?" countered Benezia. "Even now, we understand next to nothing about their history or culture. For all we know, this was being _mild_ compared to their normal behavior."

"Perhaps." admitted the Councilor. "But they have to know things can't continue like this forever. And once the current situation changes, _we'll_ be the ones dictating terms to _them_."

"I'll admit, vindictiveness has a certain appeal to me as well." said Benezia with a small laugh. "But we can't risk being openly hostile until we know how they'll react."

The car had finally arrived at the transit station near the embassies. Tevos exited, and Benezia was right on her heels as they made their way to the small bar nearby. "Well, once trade starts with the Alliance, we'll be able to learn more about the Humans." said Tevos, sounding a bit unsure of herself. "Or… we could just ask one of them."

"Like who? The Human Councilor? Her idea of _conversation_ involves a gun and a glare." Benezia scoffed as they entered the bar and made a beeline for the counter. "Hannah Shepard is the _last_ person I'd ask about Human culture."

"And why's that?" asked Hannah, stepping in from the small balcony attached to the bar.

Hannah's voice nearly made Benezia jump out of her skin. _'Thank the Goddess she didn't hear the rest of the conversation.'_ Benezia regained her composure quickly, and put on a mask of cold detachment. "Councilor Shepard." she greeted with a small nod. "I simply meant that you probably have too much work to do without spending time going over Human history and culture with us."

"Yes." continued Tevos, mirroring Benezia's tone. "I'm sure there must be books with information on the subject available. You needn't bother yourself."

"It's no bother." said Hannah with what was probably supposed to be a friendly grin. It turned sickly and died when the Asari didn't return it, and Hannah's voice grew detached as well. "It'll give us a chance to talk. After all, if we're going to be working together, we may as well get to know one another. And most of what _I_ know about the Asari comes secondhand from the Quarians, so it may not be completely… _comprehensive_. Now, what is it you wanted to know?"

_'Good job, Tevos. Now we'll _never_ get rid of her.'_ "Well…" Benezia began, slightly unsure how to phrase the question. "Let's start with the history of the Alliance. How long has your species had a single governing body?"

"About seventy Human years." answered Hannah briskly. "I'm not sure how long that translates to for the rest of the galaxy, though."

Benezia did some mental math. "That's about seventy eight Asari years. Years on Thessia are about ten percent shorter than years on Earth. Still, that's a remarkably brief time to go from a single planet with many nations to a single nation with many planets, particularly for a _young_ species." She emphasized the word just a touch, and Hannah's eyes narrowed.

"_Young_ is a relative term." replied the Human Councilor. "But we didn't have _many_ nations; we had two."

"Two?" asked Tevos in a mild surprised voice. "Arrangements like that usually lead to Cold Wars."

Hannah nodded. "And so it did. The Soviet Union and the Allied Nations of Man were in a continuous cycle of one-upmanship for nearly a century before they combined to fight the Federation. Nothing unites old rivals like new ones."

"Quite." said Tevos curtly.

Hannah quirked an eyebrow at Tevos' tone, but said nothing. "What about the Asari? How were the Republics formed?"

Benezia all but leapt at the chance to set the record straight. "Well, it started about five thousand years ago…"

* * *

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, Councilors." said Rael, extending his hand to Hannah.

Hannah shook it, and gave him a warm smile. "You too, Rael. It's been what, four months?"

"Five, actually." corrected Raan, brushing aside Rael's hand and wrapping him in a light hug. "What've you been doing with yourself, Admiral?"

"I've been overseeing the relocation of our people from the Flotilla onto the new settlements." he said with an exasperated sigh. "I tell you, if I'd known what a tedious process it was building a colony from scratch, I'd have stayed on the Migrant Fleet."

Raan laughed. "It can't be any worse than being a Councilor. Every time Hannah and I go into a meeting with the other three, I feel like we're wrestling a Thresher Maw."

"A what?" asked Hannah confusedly.

"Thresher Maws are theses big... _things_." replied Raan, trying and failing to explain the beasts. "I don't know enough about Earth animals to draw a comparison."

"Maybe I can help with that." suggested Hannah. "Describe them."

"Hmm. Well, they're a subterranean species. They burrow underground and only come up to attack prey, or defend their territory. Their bodies are long, segmented, and covered in a chitinous exoskeleton that protects their vital organs."

"So they're like big worms, then?" asked Hannah, typing on her omnitool. A moment later, a picture of an earthworm came up, and she showed it to the Quarians. "Like this?"

Raan studied the image for a moment. "Almost. But their body structure is much more advanced, and they're quite large. They can grow to be several hundred meters in length."

Hannah did a double take. "Did you say several hundred _meters_?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes." replied Raan, silently giggling at Hannah's consternation. "They also spit powerful acid as a defense mechanism. Their spit is strong enough to melt steel."

Hannah's eyes bulged, and she shivered slightly. "Remind me never to visit a planet with those things on it."

"What's the matter, Hannah?" asked Rael playfully. "Is the _big_, _tough Human Councilor afraid of a little bug_?" he teased.

"No, I'm afraid of _big_ bugs." she retorted crossly. "No insect should be larger than a centimeter across."

"So a pet tarantula would be out of the question?" asked Raan impishly. "I've been doing some research, and they seem like they make good companions."

"Raan, I'm saying this as a friend." warned Hannah, placing a hand on Raan's shoulder. "If you ever get a tarantula, or _any_ bug that big, within a kilometer of me, I'll smother you in your sleep."

"Don't let the rest of the Council hear that." said Rael with a grin. "I wouldn't put it past Tabril or Sparatus to try something like that." Suddenly, his eyes shot open. "Oh! I almost forgot why I came here in the first place. My wife is pregnant."

Hannah's face lit up in a massive grin. "That's wonderful Rael." she said, grabbing his hand and shaking it fiercely. "When's she do?"

"About six months from now." he replied, trying to pry himself lose from Raan's hug, which was quite a bit stronger than her last. "I meant to tell you both sooner, but I couldn't get away from my job, and I wouldn't have felt right if I hadn't told you in person."

"Have you decided on godparents?" asked Hannah.

"On what?"

Hannah slapped her forehead. "Derp. Choosing godparents for a newborn is an old Human custom. They're usually close friends of the family that promise to take care of the child if something happens to their biological parents."

"Hmm. That's a rather interesting custom." said Rael, pondering the question. "It makes sense, I suppose. If something _did_ happen to me, I'd want to know my child would be cared for. I'll have to talk it over with my… what do Humans call it? 'Better half?' I'll have to talk it over with my better half, but I think you'd be the obvious choice, Shala."

"I'd be honored, Rael." she said with a laugh. "Have you given any thoughts to a name?"

"Well, we know it's going to be a girl, so we were thinking of naming her after my grandmother."

"Clebrinaniarcha?" asked Raan concernedly. "A bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"

Rael laughed. "No-no-no-no-no. My _other_ grandmother. Tali."

* * *

"What's the status of our efforts with the STG?" inquired the Dalatrass.

"No change." replied the director with a small sigh. "The Humans are remarkably adept at spotting our covert teams when we enter Alliance space, just as they were during the war. Have they mentioned the encounters, Councilor?"

Tabril shook his head. "They never say anything about it, though it's obvious they know. It's almost as if they're treating the whole situation as some kind of _game_."

"What of our infiltration specialists?" asked the Dalatrass.

"Much the same." replied the director. "Most Human companies won't hire scientists from other species for their sensitive positions. Well, non-Quarian species, anyway." he corrected. "Even then, more than half their _economy_ is contained within those two giants, FutureTech and Galactic Enterprises. Those two companies are so massive, they're more powerful than most non-Council _species_."

"The existence of two conglomerates with so much power is disconcerting." said the Dalatrass, rubbing her forehead. "How does the Alliance keep them under control?"

"By playing them off against each other." explained the director. "If one of them steps out of line, they come down on them hard, and begin shifting business to the other. And both are so heavily regulated, I find it difficult to believe they could so much as _cough_ without the Alliance knowing about it."

"Hence why we can't get anyone into _them_, either." continued. "The Humans use some sort of machine that measures biometric readings to detect when a person is being deceptive. They call it a 'polygraph,' I believe. Before anyone is hired for a position that puts them near sensitive technology or personnel, they're required to take and pass one of these tests, and oftentimes to repeat the tests at random intervals. Fail a test, even once, and they throw you out on your rear."

"And our reverse engineering efforts?"

"Bogged down." answered the director, sighing again. "Without _something_ from which to derive a baseline, we can't figure out _anything_ the Alliance has. Chronospheres, Iron Curtains, PRISM and gap technology, it's all one big mystery. The only field we've had success in is AI research. Most of their information on the subject is declassified, and even freely available to the public. But unless you'd like us to build AI's of our _own_ …?"

The Dalatrass shivered slightly. "I think not. Very well Councilor, director. We'll speak again next month."

"Just like we do _every_ month." grumped Tabril once she had cut communication, rubbing his eyes. He was barely thirty four, but he felt like he was thirty eight. "Maybe I should retire early." he mused, trying to quell the headache he felt coming on. "I'm getting too old for this."

* * *

"Good evening, Centurion."

"Good evening, sir." replied Saren.

"Please, sit." said Sparatus, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. Saren did so, and Sparatus began. "I've been going over your record, Centurion, and I must say I'm impressed. You advanced through the Cabals with rather astounding speed. You're not even twenty one years old, yet you've attained a rank that most don't until they're half again your age."

"Thank you, sir." replied Saren formally.

"Relax, Saren." said Sparatus with a small grin. "While we're in private, I'd rather not stand on ceremony. Call it a side effect of needing to remain formal with the rest of the Council."

"Understood Councilor." said Saren, relaxing his posture ever so slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, what's all this about? I get the feeling you didn't ask me here to give a simple congratulations."

"No, I didn't." replied Sparatus, sizing the other Turian up. "Quite frankly, I want to know if you're interested in finding a more… _fulfilling_ use for your skills."

"Fulfilling how?" asked Saren, now genuinely interested.

"I'd like you to undergo Spectre training." replied the Councilor bluntly. "The Hierarchy needs people like you, Arterius, now more than ever: people who know what's at stake."

Saren considered for a moment. "Permission to speak freely?" he requested.

"Granted."

"Does this have anything to do with my brothers?"

"I won't lie to you, Saren; it does." replied Sparatus with a nod. "However, it's not the primary reason for my decision, just a contributing factor. I knew General Arterius personally, and it galled me to no end to agree to the Alliance's… _terms_." he said with a growl. "Even so, it was necessary to ensure the survival of millions of Hierarchy citizens. For all their youth and arrogance as a species, the Humans are incredibly powerful, and they threatened to bomb Palaven if we didn't capitulate."

"Bomb?"

"As in nuclear." replied the Councilor dryly. "I believe Hannah Shepard's exact words were 'burning nuclear wasteland.' "

Saren let out a low, animalistic growl. "They wouldn't _dare_. Surely, the Council would never allow such a thing."

"The _Council_ couldn't defeat the Alliance in a war." countered Sparatus grimly. "We couldn't defeat them during the battles at Shanxi and Rapture, and we still can't defeat them, even now, three years later. While it stings my pride to admit that, trying to deny it won't help our situation. What _will_ help is having people we can rely on to do what needs to be done. People like you."

"You can count on me, sir." replied Saren with a salute. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Saren. I know you won't"

* * *

"Sir, we need this program, now more than as ever. Humanity sits atop the galactic food chain because of our technology, but it's only a matter of time until pieces of it get stolen or captured by the other races and reverse engineered. It's been the mission of Cerberus to prevent that from happening, no matter the cost."

"The other races couldn't figure out the idea behind _carriers_ until we showed it to them, Illusive Man." retorted the Prime Minister.

"That's exactly my point, sir." countered TIM, taking a long drag of his cigarette to steady his nerves. "_We_ showed them. Until we can ensure our dominance through means other than technology, Cerberus remains our best defense against aggression from other species."

"Parliament disagrees, and quite frankly, so do I." replied the PM curtly. "My predecessor may've been content to let you play fast and loose with the rules for the past five years, but I'm not."

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"_Oh_?" he asked contemptuously. "Invasive experiments on living subjects? Human cloning? _Psionic testing_?"

"All of those projects were approved by you predece-"

"I'm aware of that." snapped the Prime Minister, cutting TIM off. "In my opinion, he let you go too far. Unlike him, I don't believe in a policy of 'out of sight, out of mind.' That which grows in the shadows and withers in the light of day has no place in a free society, and I don't trust someone who I've never met face-to-face, and who's name I don't know. I'm shutting you down."

The Illusive Man said nothing as the Alliance Prime Minister cut the communications channel. After he was gone, the man who'd once been Jack Harper finished smoking his cigarette before making his next move.

"Idealistic fool. It seems that Cerberus has outgrown the Alliance." he mused.

"So be it."


	12. Chapter 8: In the Beginning

_**Author notes: Sorry for this update being a bit late compared to my normal release schedule. The IRL hunt for a job has been eating up a lot of my time, and ******__I haven't been able to sit down and write very much_. I'll try to get things back on track here soon enough.

* * *

Chapter 8: In the Beginning, There was Darkness

"We need to make a decision, Councilor."

"I know David, I know. The problem is deciding who to pick. Even with two all but guaranteed votes, it's taken us over a quarter of a century to get a third, and I'm not entirely sure if Tevos will play ball. If we misstep now, it could take twenty five _more_ years for us to get another chance."

"_You_ may have had something to do with that, Hannah."

"I didn't write _all_ those demands, and god knows I tried to work with the others. I just… _gave up_ after decade. Maybe if they replaced Sparatus, I could make headway with the Turians-"

"Don't even start, Hannah. It's not Sparatus that's to blame for this, and you know it. Granted, he's not the easiest person to work with, but it takes two to tango."

"Then what should I have done differently? Cut back on the ratios in Farixen? Hung the Quarians out to dry? Started handing out PRISM sats and chronosuits like candy?"

"You shouldn't have _given up_. Politicians may be a lot of things, but they _aren't_ quitters."

"David, I didn't even want to be a politician. I still don't. Personally, I blame Hackett for this whole mess. If he'd just warned me where this was going, I could've avoided it."

"I doubt that, Councilor. 'Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die.' Still, it's never too late to try. Pride may be a bitter pill to swallow, but so is most good medicine."

"...I wasn't expecting to get dressed down like some raw recruit when I woke up today. Still… thank you."

"You're welcome. And you're avoiding the question. Who do we pick?"

"What about you, David? I've seen your service record. You meet all of the qualifications."

"Ha. No, Hannah, I'm not cut out to be a Spectre. If you'd asked me twenty years ago, before I got blacklisted by Saren… maybe. As it stands, I'm just an old soldier, and I'm preparing to fade away. It's time for a younger generation to take up the mantle. But if you think _my_ service record makes me qualified, I know of at least one person who overshadows me by a longshot."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

"You know full well who I'm referring to, Hannah. John's record speaks for itself."

"We've been over this-"

"And yet you still insist on being an obstinate politician."

"Oough. That's a low blow, Captain."

"The obstinate part or the politician part? Now be reasonable. He did in ten years what took me twenty. Geist by the time he turned twenty-one, then onto N7 by the time he has twenty-six. And we can't forget Akuze."

"Believe me, Captain, I'm the _last_ person who'll be forgetting _that_. Well, the second to last, anyway."

"I know. I just don't understand why you can't accept that he's the right choice. If you're waiting for someone more qualified to come along, you'll still be looking in twenty five _more_ years."

"I can't afford to play favorites, David. If I let my emotions get in the way of this, the fallout could be massive."

"And since when does Hannah Shepard care about fallout? Is this the same Hannah Shepard who threatened to turn Palaven into, what was it? 'A burning nuclear wasteland?' If I didn't know better, I'd say someone had swooped in and replaced you with a doppelgänger."

"Heh. Maybe you're right. But this is bigger than me, David. This is bigger than all of us. This is a chance for Humanity to prove that's were more than just schoolyard bullies with big sticks. I raised him, remember? He has the skills, and more than enough guts, but he's not exactly the most… _congenial_ individual out there. I can't let my personal life interfere with this."

"So why are you?"

"… Alright, you've got me there. I'm still not sure about this, though."

" 'In this world, nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.' "

"Hehehehe. Fair enough. As soon as Raan tells me who _she_ wants, I'll let her know. But I'd rather you tell John. Sometimes I think you know him better than I do."

"I can do that Hannah. I can do that."

* * *

"Cut the chatter you two."

"Sorry, Commander." said Kaidan.

Suddenly, Anderson's voice cut in over the coms.

"Joker! Status report."

"Just cleared the Mass Relay, Captain." he replied quickly. "Stealth systems engaged, and everything looks green."

"Good. Fire up the QEC and patch us through to FleetCom. I want mission reports relayed to the Alliance brass before we reach Eden Prime."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Better brace yourself, sir. I think Nihlus is headed your way-"

"He's already here, Lieutenant." replied Anderson impatiently. "Tell Shepard to meet me in the com room for a mission briefing."

"Good job, Joker." said Shepard, his voice carrying an edge. "You pissed the captain off, and now I'm gonna pay for it."

As Shepard left the bridge and headed aft, he shook his head at Joker's antics. He was the best damn pilot in the Alliance, but he made up for it by being the biggest wiseass alive. As the Commander entered the com room, he was surprised to see Nihlus there alone. "Where's the captain?" he asked.

"Oh, Commander Shepard. The captain's on his way, but I was hoping you'd get here first. I've been wanting a chance to talk to you."

"Talk about what, exactly?"

"I was interested in this world we're going to, Eden Prime – I hear it's quite beautiful."

Shepard quirked an eyebrow at him. "And?"

"And it's more than just a tourist destination, isn't it Shepard?" asked the Turian in a knowing voice. "Eden Prime is a symbol of your people, proof that Humanity can not only establish colonies on the edge of the Terminus Systems, but protect them as well."

Shepard scoffed. "I'd think that Rapture would be all the proof you'd need that we can protect our people."

Before Nihlus could respond, the door behind them slid open, and Anderson walked into the com room.

"I think it's about time we told the Commander what's really going on here."

Nihlus nodded. "This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run."

"Really? Who'd 'a thunk?"

"We're making a covert pickup on Eden Prime." said Anderson, casting Shepard a heated glance for his attitude. "That's why we've engaged the _Normandy_'s stealth systems."

"What are we picking up, exactly?" asked the younger Human

"A Prothean beacon." replied Nihlus.

Shepard's eyebrows rose. "Prothean? I guess they left more behind than just some Martian ruins and old tech."

"This is big, Shepard." said Anderson. "The last time Prothean relics were discovered on a Human world, it led to new avenues of technology and research for man, and opened up the galaxy to us as well. The problem is, Eden Prime doesn't have the facilities to handle something like this. We need to get the beacon back to the Citadel for proper study."

"This goes beyond Human interests, Commander." continued Nihlus. "This discovery could affect every species in Council space."

"The Citadel? Why not Earth?" Without waiting for a response, Shepard continued. "Wait, let me guess: it should help 'improve relations' between the Alliance and the rest of the galaxy, right?"

"I see that some of your mother's training managed to rub off on you, John." said Anderson, cracking a small smile.

"The beacon's not the only reason I'm here, Shepard." said Nihlus. "I'm here to evaluate you for the Spectres. I must admit, I was impressed when I read your file. The reports from Akuze were… particularly enlightening. That's why I supported your candidacy for the Spectres."

"And why would a Turian want a Human in the Spectres?"

Nihlus sighed. "Despite our history, not all Turians resent Humanity, Commander, just as not all Humans resent Turians. We can't deny the potential your species possess any longer, if we ever even could. As elite a group as the Spectres are, there are those among your people that could put even _us_ to the test, you chief among them. I don't care that you're Human, Shepard. I only care that you can do the job."

Shepard was mildly taken aback, but nodded after a moment. "I suppose I can appreciate that."

"I need to see you in action for myself, Commander." continued Nihlus. "Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together. You'll be leading the ground team to recover the beacon, with me along as an observer. We'll secure the beacon and transport it to the Normandy."

"Alright. I can do that. Just give the word, Captain."

Joker's voice suddenly came in over the coms. "We've got a problem sir. We just dropped out of FTL, and we're receiving a distress call from Eden Prime."

Anderson looked concerned. "Patch it through, Joker."

The short video that played in the com room didn't look good. Whatever was going on down there, it looked like a damn warzone.

"…under attack, tak… ulties. I repeat, taking heavy… out of nowhere, we can't… AGH. We need evac, we need-"

"That's all we got, Captain." said Joker.

"Why the hell didn't this come through on the QEC?" asked Shepard, almost rhetorically.

"Hmm… Reverse and hold at 38.5." said Anderson. A large, mechanical-looking… squid… ship… thing appeared on screen. "Whatever that thing is, I'm betting it has something to do with this."

"Sir, we're five minutes out, and there are no other Alliance ships in the area." said the pilot.

"Take us in Joker, fast and quiet. This mission just got a lot more complicated."

* * *

Appearing suddenly on the surface of Eden Prime, the three Humans and lone Turian were greeted with the sound of distant gunfire.

"Remind me again why we couldn't simply transport directly to the dig site again, Shepard?"

"Because, Nihlus, something's jamming our psychic radar. There are damn few things that can manage that, and we could've been chronoing into a shootout. This was as close as we could get without coming in hot."

"I still think I'd work better on my own, Shepard."

"Too damn bad, Spectre. While we're on this op, I call the shots. We have no idea what's down here, and we're not splitting up. Besides, how are you gonna evaluate me if you go haring off on your own?"

Nihlus grumbled for a bit, but nodded. "Fair enough. But if and when we go on another mission, you'll follow _my_ orders, agreed?"

"I can live with that. Jenkins, you're on point. Let's move out."

They didn't have to wait long to find out what was going on. As they entered a small glade, a pair of floating drones was there to greet them as Jenkins out came from behind a rock formation. Caught off guard, Shepard and his team could do little but watch helplessly as the drones cut through his shields and shredded his armor in an instant. Even as he fell, the commander pulled out his heavy pistol and blew them out of the sky with two well-placed shots. Running over to Jenkins' limp form, he already knew it was too late.

"Shit." he muttered, stamping down on the feeling of regret that welled up inside him. "Nothing we can do now. Leave him, we've still got a job to do. Whatever those things were, I think we'll know more about them when we reach the dig site."

The truth came even sooner than that. Taking out several more drones as they progressed, the small party eventually reached a large clearing, where a lone Alliance marine was pinned down behind a rock formation by a number of synthetics. Quickly chronoing down beside her, Shepard pulled out his high powered sniper rifle and put a round straight into the optics of in each one's head.

"Whoa, shit! Where'd you come from?" exclaimed the marine.

"No time to explain, marine. Commander John Shepard of the Normandy. Sitrep."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212, sir." she replied quickly. She began to pace nervously as she continued. "Oh man… we were patrolling when the attack hit. Something jammed our psychic radar, and we never saw them coming. They took out command and control in the first shot, and we couldn't get out a distress call. That was a little over an hour ago."

"Where's the rest of your squad, Williams?" inquired Shepard.

Williams froze in place at the question, and her eyes fell. "We walked into an ambush trying to reach the beacon. They… didn't make it."

"You left them?" asked the commander, a hint of antipathy creeping into his tone.

"We held as long as we could!" protested Ashley. "The Geth were everywhere, we had to fall back. I barely got out in one piece. I didn't have the luxury of a chronosuit." Her voice was a bit bitter as she finished.

"Watch it, Gunny." warned Shepard. Even so, his voice softened slightly as he continued. "And did you say Geth? They haven't been seen outside the Veil in over three hundred years. Even the envoys we sent couldn't tell us a damn thing besides the fact they were told to fuck off. Why are they here now?"

"Must be the beacon, Commander." said Kaidan. "That's the only logical explanation."

"Damnit. Alright Williams, lead the way."

The group of four progressed onwards. When they happened upon a Geth patrol, Kaidan was able to erect a biotic barrier directly in front of the organic team to act as temporary cover against incoming fire. One of the synthetics went down to a long burst from Ashley's rifle, and a second dropped from a single shot to the optic from Shepard's. Nihlus quickly destroyed the final two with a pair of well-aimed shots from a heavy pistol.

"Not bad, Nihlus." said Shepard, waving the others to follow. "Looks like you deserve the title of Spectre after all."

"Spectre?" asked Ashley suspiciously. "What's a Spectre doing on a Human colony?"

Nihlus shot her a hard, disparaging look. "I'm evaluating the Commander for the Spectres." he replied tightly

"Why would the Council want a Human as a Spectre?" asked the sergeant with a small sneer. "Haven't the birdies got enough people to handle their problems without asking us?" Nihlus let out a low, quiet growl, but Shepard cut him off.

"Pipe down." barked the Commander. "You two can snarl at each other on your own damn time. For now, focus on the mission and shut the hell up. That goes double for you, Williams."

"Yes, sir." she snapped, her training taking over. Nihlus murmured his agreement a moment later. Fighting their way through several more Geth patrols, they finally arrived at the dig site. The beacon was gone.

"The beacon was right here, sir." protested Ashley when Shepard shot a questioning look at her. "The Geth must've moved it. We'll know more when we check out the research camp. It's just beyond that ridge." she finished, pointing at a nearby hill. Shepard nodded, and they moved out.

When they reached the top of the rise, they were greeted by the sight of demolished prefab structures and small fires. In the center of the le large expanse, a number of tall metal spikes were planted in the ground, and what looked to be glowing blue humanoids were impaled on top of them. As they neared, the spikes retracted and the things rose to their feet, apparently not bothered by the gaping holes in their abdomens. The let out shrill, grating screams, and then charged at the party, seeking to rip them limb from limb. They didn't get far. A combination of pistol, assault rifle, and shotgun fire ripped the unshielded berserkers to shreds in a little less than ten seconds.

"Spirits, what were those?" asked Nihlus, a little perturbed by the quickly disintegrating forms of the creatures before them. "Were they synthetic or organic?"

"I think those… husks were what were left of the colonists." said Shepard, motioning for his team to spread out and cover the area. "They looked like they were synthetic _and_ organic, almost cybernetic. Whatever those spikes are, they turn people into those things."

"Sir, over here." called Ashley, standing next to one of the intact buildings. "This door is sealed from the inside, security lock."

"Slap some omnigel on it and let's see what's behind door number one."

What was inside was a pair of civilians, a frightened scientist and her manic assistant. After some brief questions – and a quick right hook to calm the agitated man – Shepard learned that the beacon had been moved to the spaceport.

"Alright, let's move." said Shepard. He tuned to the slightly distraught scientist. "Seal the door again and wait for the cavalry. You and your assistant should be safe here for the time being."

When they reached the spaceport, there was another squad of Geth and Husks there to meet them. Once again, Nihlus proved his skill in combat by managing to take down more hostiles than any of the others, though Shepard was a close second. Once they were out of the way, Shepard and his team fanned out in the port, looking for the beacon.

"Over there!" said Ashley, snapping her rifle towards a flash of movement. "There's something moving behind those crates. I think it's a civvie."

"Come out with your hands up!" ordered Shepard, pointing his heavy pistol towards the crates.

A frightened worked jolted upright immediately, his hands raised above his head. "Wait, I'm Human, don't shoot!" When it became clear he wasn't about to be riddled with bullets, he relaxed slightly and continued. "You're Alliance, right? If you're looking for the beacon, you're too late; the Turian and the Geth already moved it."

"Turian?" asked Nihlus sharply. "What Turian?"

The dock worker looked scared. "I don't know. He came from inside that mother ship with the Geth. He was giving them orders, telling them what to do. I got a picture of him on my 'tool while I was hiding." He punched in a command on the haptic interface, and a picture of a Turian in black and silver armor appeared.

"Saren." breathed Nihlus, a look of shock coming to his face.

"Friend of yours?" asked Shepard, shooting Nihlus a withering glare.

Nihlus' voice was shaky. "He's a fellow Spectre, Shepard… He was my mentor, and he hates Humans. If he really is commanding the Geth, the Council and your FleetCom need to be informed. This could be another Contact War in the making."

"And why the hell should we trust you, _Turian_?" Ashley spat. "For all we know, you're working with him."

"If I was working with Saren, I'd have shot you all by now." he retorted.

"I'd like to see you try, metalhead."

"Shut the hell up, both of you." snapped Shepard. "We're wasting time. Whatever Saren's doing here, he wants that beacon, and I'll be damned if I let him just take it."

"The Geth loaded the beacon onto the cargo train on the other platform." supplied the dock worker, pointed off into the distance. "They left about five minutes ago, so you should be able to catch them."

Fighting their way through yet another squad of Geth, Shepard noticed that some of the synthetics in this group were larger than those they had seen before. And based on how fast they cut through his shields, they packed a lot more firepower. Keeping low to avoid stray fire, the commander ran forward, taking cover behind one of the low walls that lined the platform. He quickly lined up a shot with his sniper rifle and fired, eliminating two hostiles as the powerful projectile smashed through their metallic bodies. Between Nihlus Ashley, and Kaidan, the last of the Geth dropped quickly, and the team boarded the cargo train and started it.

"You seem to be remarkably proficient with that rifle, Shepard." said Nihlus after a moment. "I'll admit, distance work was never my strong suit."

"I always liked the idea of sniper rifles." explained Shepard, relaxing his posture ever so slightly. "After all, they let you eliminate most threats quickly and efficiently, from a safe position where the enemy likely can't see you. The only downside is the training and skill required to accurately put a bullet in something that far away each and every time. It's all about the concentration."

"Not to sound rude, sir." began Ashley. "But are you implying regular grunts are less skilled than snipers?"

Shepard shot her a rueful smirk. "I didn't mean it like that, Williams."

"Ashley, if you don't mind sir."

"Can we settle on Ash?" he asked. When she nodded, he continued. "It's just that snipers have a different kind of skill. I won't try and bullshit you about my weaknesses: I don't function as well with a multi-shot weapon, like an assault rifle or SMG. Precise, high-powered, single-shot weapons always appealed to me, and I've gotten good at using them. I try to make every shot count, and that isn't always the best solution. Sometimes, precision is pointless and you just need to fill a firing lane with bullets until everything in it is dead." Seeing her annoyed frown, he changed tactics. "Think of it this way: a sledgehammer might be less refined than a scalpel, but it has just as many uses. You use each as the situation warrants. Trying to use one when the situation calls for the other is a mistake, and in combat, mistakes can be fatal."

"So you're saying I'm less _refined_ than you?" she asked with a playful grin.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" he asked, returning the grin. After a moment, his face fell, and his voice turned grim. "Tell you what: when we're done with all this crap, I'll introduce you to my CO. Just before we met up with you, we lost a member of the squad."

Ashley stiffened slightly, but after a moment, her features softened. "I'm sorry to hear that. I guess we've both lost something today."

"We can drink a toast to them on the Normandy when this is over." suggested Kaidan.

"You're Navy?" asked Ashley quizzically.

Shepard nodded. "I'd like to think I'm a good judge of skill, Ash, and you've got it. Captain Anderson should be able to swing a transfer to the Normandy if you're interested."

She hesitated for a moment. "I'll… I'll think about it, sir."

Before Shepard could continue, the train pulled into a station not too dissimilar from the one they'd just left. The only difference was that this one still had Geth. Quickly picking one of them off with his pistol, Shepard got off the exposed train and ducked behind a metal wall, stopping next to a cylindrical metal device. Scanning it with his omnitool while his squad took out the rest of the Geth, Shepard cursed loudly as he realized what it was.

"Oh, shit! The Geth have set nuclear charges to destroy the colony! There are three more of them nearby, and we've got less than a minute to get rid of them!"

"Can you hack them!?" asked Ashley frantically, popping off a burst of assault rifle fire at a Geth platform on the catwalk above.

"Yeah, but it'll take too long! I've got an idea; Nihlus, get this damn bomb turned off! I'll take care of the rest of them!"

Quickly holstering his pistol, Shepard pulled out his Temporal Dislocator from the holster over his shoulder. He scanned the surrounding area with his omnitool and located one of the remaining bombs, before quickly teleporting to a platform nearby. Ducking behind a metal crate, he aimed the Dislocator at the charge and activated it. A hazy blue stream of temporal energy and chronitons shot from it and began pushing the bomb out of time itself. As bullets impacted his cover, the seconds ticked by for Shepard all too quickly. Finally, with just over thirty five seconds left on the clock, the device he was working on winked out of reality, never having existed at all.

"How, it coming, Nihlus!?" he demanded, rapidly locating the other explosives.

"Almost done, Shepard." replied the Turian, in a voice that was almost too calm for the situation. "Get to the next one and we'll cover you."

Shepard did exactly that, moving down the platform in the blink of an eye. He appeared directly next to the munition, but he was also next to a Geth trooper. Focusing on the bomb, he began erasing it as well, hearing a sharp bang behind him as the Geth had its' head blown off by a heavy pistol round. When the next bomb was gone, there was less than fifteen seconds left to get to the last one. Unfortunately, there were three Geth near it, and one was of the larger variety.

"Kaiden, I need biotic support on the last bomb, now!" ordered Shepard. "Get rid of those Geth!"

"Aye, Commander!"

Teleporting to the final bomb, Shepard began the agonizing process of erasing it. As the Geth platforms turned towards him, one was suddenly thrown backwards by a biotic blast and fell off the steep elevated platform to the ground far below. The other two Geth snapped their weapons up towards him, and their fire began eating away at his shields rapidly. Unable to move with the bomb at less than five seconds to detonation, Shepard was sure that this was the end-

"Not today, you metal bastards!" yelled Nihlus, his omniblade slicing off the head of one of them before plunging into the other's chest in one fluid motion.

As the last bomb disappeared forever, Shepard let out a small sigh of relief. "Thanks Nihlus. I owe you one."

"Any time, Shepard." said the Turian, giving him a small, concealed grin.

Ashley and Kaidan were just behind Nihlus as they rejoined the group. "Not bad, Nihlus." said the biotic. "Mind giving me some CQC pointers later?" Ashley shot the other soldier a frosty look, but Nihlus either didn't notice or didn't care. Shepard waved the group forward, and they took out one last group of Geth and Husks before finally finding their prize.

Shepard activated his com unit after sweeping the area for Geth. "Normandy, this is Shepard. We've secured the beacon. We need chrono transport at my location."

"So this is it, huh?" asked Ashley, slowly walking towards the beacon. "It doesn't look like much up close. I don't remember it glowing, though. It's almost like… aaah… AAAGH!"

Shepard looked over his shoulder and saw Ashley doubled over in pain, her body being slowly dragged towards the beacon by some invisible force. He quickly ran over and grabbed her around her waist, twisting quickly and throwing her clear. Even as he did, he felt the same irresistible pull on his body. He was lifted sharply into the air and he distantly heard Nihlus yell his name as a series of thoughts and images began flooding into his mind.

loss…

sorrow…

reapers…

Violence…

Pain…

Reapers…

DEATH…

DESTRUCTION…

REAPERS…

**ARMAGEDDON…**

**OBLIVION…**

**REAPERS…**

_**YOU ARE ON THE WAY TO DESTRUCTION! YOU HAVE NO CHANCE TO SURVIVE, MAKE YOUR TIME!**_

Everything went black.


End file.
